A Walking Timer

Each morning from the driver’s seat
A lady, I see briskly walking down the cobwebbed street

That’s how I know I’m close to seven in the morning
Every step she inches close to the crossing is my warning

Her face so flushed
in the pace of her feet’s rush

In ways strange at crossroads we meet
that’s where we decide each others speed

Will I ever know where she races to ?
at the same time when I make my way through

that empty lane with purple pansies prancing
and her steps compete with them dancing

On time I am if she is at the far end of the crossing
Else I know the gates of my office would be closing

Her jaded visage and pacing stride
In The Divine’s timing all is unified

Each morning from the driver’s seat
A lady, I see briskly walking down the cobwebbed street

@celina🕊️