Treadmill

The days flash past.
Is it Wednesday again?
It’s getting faster
this wheel I’m on.
I can’t see the spokes anymore,
they’re just a blur.
My legs pump the pedals,
I lean forward in racing position,
faster and faster.

Stop! Stop!

I can’t, here’s Friday again.

My head aches with watching
the speed of days spinning past.
Work, rest, play,
Work rest play.

Is there an end in sight?

A goal to be achieved?
A destination to reach?

Look ... it’s Monday again...

another day on the treadmill.


This is a new poem ... still working on it ...