Mistaken Ride Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Mistaken Ride



Silent, still Monday morning, clouds filling
the sky overhead.

Trance-like qualities filling without, letting
imagination take whatever turns it prefers.

Riding down the 51, in a yellow cab, very late
for an appointment, because someone at the office
made a mistake, yet again.

Not knowing what the words, 'high priority' meant.

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