Every morning I search for words
A flower blossoms
I loose my train of thoughts.

The garden is full of flowers
A train leaves
Where is my lunch box?

There is a strike this morning
A snail glides
I am late again.

What was the appointment?
Where is the forgotten
Why there is a strike in my brain’s muscles?

I am searching again!

October 23, 2017

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
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