Your pipettes are still smoking
And your notes on scrap paper
When the holidays arrive.
A feeling of incomplete and guilt descends
While you leave the long concrete corridor.
your mind rushes
to plan and refine elegant experiments
Not to waste time
While your bikini awaits you.
Just let it happen and distance yourself
By flying to the coming singer
And exploring for the perfect Christmas present
Whole they all waste words.
Nod and consider
W what is really important to you
And take notes
To plan your short but dense free time
And your next knitting project.
Could it be true
That even after yes you are
Never too old for being nervous.
No matter the big tools in your luggage
and the tricks yours hands know,
When the future knocks,
The stomach is a stone
That keeps you going
The rain is coming
And the daisy closes its petals
Waiting patiently for the good day.
Nature tells the way.
Let time pass,
And stay closed
For the turmoil to be over.