Busy Poem by Michelle Dragonfly

Busy, busy, busy.
Everyone is aways busy.
What happened to the time
When we believed
We could fly?

That time is dead.
Murdered.
Gone.
It's not coming back.
Replaced with phones, wifi, video games.

If your imagination walked up,
Returning from its virtual grave,
Would you run from it, screaming?
No cheating.
No lying.
Then again, you might not
Recognize it.
You're just too...busy.

Busy, busy, busy.
Everyone's always far
Too
Busy.