Not fully realized
Within the hours I sleep
I carry them along
I dine with them
I drink to them
When alone
I speak of them
At times more about one than another
At times never about one
But I carry that along too
Whims and urges demand that
Not even fully realized
Within this space
I leave them for sleep
And the next day
At the stroke of one
He saw the men emerge
And gather in the fresh air
Coughing, squinting and gasping
He kept time as they washed
The black from their hands and face
And sat in the clean dirt
To eat their meals
Their words and laughter reached him
Some spat too, others cursed
And then they all looked at him
And he at the time
He saw the hand tick over
But the whistle in his mouth
Remained bereft of air
Longer than usual
While all the appropriate words
Are being said and shared
Accompanied by laughs, hugs and tears
I shall stand in a corner and disappoint
And then compensate later
Through a different medium
That allows much
To remain with me
This young couple in a café
Now speaking, now fighting, now silent
About things that don’t matter
Disrupt the morning routine
Of the old man who sits nearby
And lets his coffee go cold
A cramped office space
Papers stacked unevenly
And high
The faces
Of engrossed men
Hidden behind
A man
Not hidden
Hiding
Observes all but them
Through the window
By his right
A True Sentence 