Working jamboree

WE talk of work, we speak numbers,
Hiding our personality behind white shorts
And grey skirts.
The day passes and I don’t recognize myself.
I listed my past curiosity
and what my hands can do with passion
To return myself at the end of the day.

Sleepy me

Sleepy me,
Travelling through the rain
And wishing a quiet meaningful future.
Yawning nonstop
As a self cuddle available everywhere,
Even on the train.