Poetry Series #5: Time marches

There is a dearth of influence
To drag us from our lonely beds,
When the clock strikes the hour
We should be elsewhere.

You plan the day in your mind as
You perform your daily ablutions.
The heavy bag complimented
By your spirit.

The ground clings to your feet
As the cars rush around you.
The sun blinding every time,
You try and be safe.

The bus you take, or the car you drive
Or the subway you ride
Take you
Where you'd rather not

The doors open
Time marches