As days of yore come restless – oh, specter ships at dock
I lay in bed still not dressed – just gawking at that clock
Knowing actually I must hurry, forget mine worry and with a hovering heart scrurry to my grind; yes -
to keep forthgoing rapidly, bairing trust, care and accuracy – to keep taking loving part in our journey troughout time.
Frequently I tell myself this – oh but yet all the while – despite every core in my will, I cant sees from layig still; ceaslessly staring, staring at that clock – watching every step and move , hearing all its ticks and tocks.
For something was torn, askew or even broken, yet what I couldnt say;
But when the morn again came anew and I awoken – something truly had changed.
Present was now some undiscovered feeling; my soul now burdened by some force of sway;
for every time I thought of leaving, this unknow cause, as with godly laws, suddenly convinced me to stay.

It was all too mysterious. For in the flesh – yes - I knew I could arise and cunning walk away.
Yes, I knew surely I could do this – if only I closed my eyes, pictured my guilt and again recalled the coming lateness of the day.
Ah, then no more clock, no more room. With humiliation and blame i’d again join the office flock – and pretty soon – forget about this little blind guessing game.
It would again all become just the same, and within noon i’d put this very morn both behind and under mine pressing shame.
But despite feeling my plans was now indeed most sane – deep beneeth my covers still I remained – steadily held back by a strong will, forming me only ever more dozy and lame.
It seemed a part of my being; deep down at the inner core – could not be persuaded, to even as much as to gaze down slightly at the door. No, unstirring with some unexplained adore, my target view stayed directed the very same way as it had hours and hours on before.
Except only now the pointers proudly played a quarter past nine – thus, by now Mr. Blackwood knows i’m not attending the firm in proper time.
Naturally he’ll pass by the desks with his customary glare – inspecting every pen and page; ever so eager to deal me his spurring scares -
only to simply soon jar with rage – as he finds all my files stacked, and uncovers the yet unfamiliar fact – that i’m not even there. Non the less without any warning, prior sick notice - nor any other proof of respect or care.

Internaly seeing this oh fated sight - now slowly filled me with a hint of fright.
So..... .

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