Author: Pontvert

Well the day is gone,
And evening is settling in,
With night coming fast.

Time’s of the essence,
It’s legal but it is for me,
So, I will do more.

Dreading work again,
Knots my tummy terribly,
And it’s still Sunday.

Watching some old films,
One is black and white oldie,
But it was funny.

I checking the score,
Of the some games played today,
Good to see them back.

A relaxing day,
I’m trying to recover,
From a busy week.

I counting my change,
And I’m making some big plans,
For dinner tonight.

The day’s starting well,
Relaxed and the sun shining,
In the cloudy sky.

I play my guitar,
Arpeggios run away,
And then come back up.

The cut away helps,
To make these runs longer,
And ping that high note.

It’s my dad’s birthday,
I call to see how he is,
And he says he’s well.

We take a short walk,
Along the woodland pathway,
Green and overgrown.

I photograph things,
That catch my eye, but not much.
Still a few nice shots.

It’s the day after,
And the mopping up begins,
With very tired hands.

They call it a beast,
A mammoth meeting done well.
It achieved its goal.

One hundred people,
Joined the meeting yesterday,
And all done on line.

Another day now,
More of the same and many there,
I am leading this.

It really drains me,
I’m empty from my head down,
Time to get some sleep.

So much preparation,
Leaves me in deep stagnation,
But a working plan.

K V fifty five,
A small tomb with nothing there,
Somewhere in Luxor.