Poetry

That May Be, 3 (124.)

Maybe I should have
walked outside a little more,
and maybe I should have
half a mind to go outside now,
but remote work is weirdly demanding
and it’s hard to summon the willpower to do much of anything.
I don’t mean to belittle myself
or my abilities;
it should be said now
that I’ve been working more than 40 hours
for the past few weeks.
It hurts my spirit,
just a little bit,
and I’ve got to keep this pace up
for the foreseeable future.
Can I
even see a future
in which I relax?
Assuredly, I can see it,
and by the end of the summer,
I may even be able to enjoy it.

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