(while consciousness gathers)
The Hours
Waiting at the station, waiting for
my train.
When will life come, and what will
they serve?
Listening to the music, helps to
explain
Thought about life, and what was
deserved
Still haunts me, was life a silly
drain?
If I can imagine anything at all
in the last of my hours
Sense will be made just short of enthrall
We are all family mine always ours
Boarding the train I carry y’all’s shawl
Suggested listening: The
Hours by Philip Glass
