The chatter can’t keep time with the rhythm and beat of sound
As it pumps and pumps and sends an echo to the roof and to the ground.
The polished concreted floors shine and the sound slides and bounces
And concentration can be measured in seconds and in ounces.
Glasses on and glasses off and glasses empty, filled and taken
Head up to look, head down to read, my confidence is shaken.
Count out the pennies, count out the coins, count out all the hours.
No time to think, no time to work, no time to smell the flowers.
Copyright © 2017 Grant Fenton – All Rights Reserved
Inalienable Write 
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