I feel no cold in me
At Christmas time.
The weeks waiting
and the colours of the fire
Make me anticipate its value each year
And now is September
And I am already holding the calendar.
The next station has been called
Once again in this familiar train.
The journey is however different
With a summary of this local world
On the silent pale faces
And the black dogs
Sleeping dreamy below bikes full of desert dust.
The synthetic smell of rain on the asphalt
Will stay with me today
And remind me of the aggressive civilization
I belong to.
No flowers of green
On the way to work
To greet my struggled motivation.
What went wrong can be fixed,
Feelings of inadequacy
Linger in the air.
In the dark I wake up
Hoping for a day of laughter and lightness
In front of the screen, behind the cubicle.
Nobody wants to offer their energy to the group
And unconsciously waits for the good Samaritan.
Come to work to get and grab
And not to give
You might preserve your inner balance
You lose a day to enjoy.