...The story of a girl in London, England


Sonnet 44


My apathetic moods cut time in half.

At noon I paint my nails, and sit, and yawn—

And all at once it’s seven and I laugh,

And wonder where the afternoon has gone.

At eight, I’ve finished laughing, and intend

To be productive, as I know I ought.

Instead I look at photos of a friend,

And finally at nine, give work a shot.

My fingers on the keys, inert as fish

Upon a plate, or broccoli, or beans.

I stare, pathetic, at the page, and wish

The words would write themselves, onto the screen.

Eleven thirty, still, my passion lacks.

I mount the stairs to find a little snack.

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