Sunday Sonnet (Monday-Posted & Rhymed Freely), #13, 2016


[Image by Salvator Dali]

Today, she decided, before even

opening her eyes.  Today would be slow,

against the grain of modern age.  All know

the pressure to maintain “busy”.  Ravens

watched, spread their wings, stood guard then as she rose

slowly from her bed, stretched and yawned (her nose

wrinkling) and made towards the window.  Men

were hurrying to and fro, tasks more than

ever could hope to be completed – no

thanks to machinery; technology.

The mechanical age had created

so many more labours than hands had known.

Time had sped up to the whirring of cogs;

yawning of souls no longer elated.

[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]