This weather is perfect.
I could lay bare on the grass and in the sun
To delight in the breeze flying in from the mountains.
My mind is void of music which would hope to bounce around my head,
Obstructing clarity and thought.
I have but fifteen minutes on my break.
I find myself tucking in my shirt and straightening my sleeves
As I re-enter the building and return to my desk.
I wish I was playing soccer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
awesome thats what a cig can do for fifteen minutes *puff and theres goes a quick a escape from the workforce