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Holidays

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.

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Meeting survival

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.

No age

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
Nevertheless.

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