Tomas Waters,

In The Afternoon

Stepping away from work
On a weathered wooden chair
Door propped open
In the courtyard
Where leaves swirl
Chasing my thoughts
In the chaotic confines
Of a whirlpool mind

I look up between the buildings
They frame pale blue skies
Collecting clouds
And vapour trails
When will I move on
Grounded too long
Where am I headed
Eyes suddenly wide

We pause and we’re reshaped
We blink and we’ve grown
There’s a vague but real
New-found sense of urgency
Does this suit I chose
Still bring out my best
Do these clothes still fit
In the afternoon

A gust of wind
Blows the door closed
Locked from the inside
I don’t move a muscle…