I wanted to write a poem to mark the end of the week,
So I stared at the window dramatically, looking for inspiration,
I focused on the drizzle thinking about how wet I will be while going home later,
I looked on as the little pellets of water hit the glass and slowly slid down,
and I wondered,
Are these droplets escaping from something up there in the clouds,
Do they feel free now that they slide down my window to the dirt beneath,
Do they look forward to nourish my flowers and make them bloom in the dusk,
Or are they just forced down, chased from the magical above, through forces of nature that they cannot comprehend?
Is the slow slide on the glass their last attempt to hold on?
A colleague walked in and asked me why I was staring intently at the window,
And I realized I couldn’t explain myself without sounding absolutely ridiculous,
but against my better judgment, I tried,
“You are very weird!” he said as he backed away slowly out of the door.
Lovely weekend ahead fellow weirdos 🙂