Tired is the body,
but the mind isn’t,
fighting its way out
of a numbing grey fog of boredom
that has settled as dust on the sweeping broom.
No, do not succumb to the ridiculous suggestion of resting
by way of watching daytime TV,
or a walk in the park where old men with vacant eyes sit
and talk rubbish about their youth.
If the price to pay for more years is ennui,
seeing seasons pass without being a part of it,
why bother?
Dust doesn’t know that it ever lived,
it just blow with the wind.