My piles of good intentions
are suspended from the floor
by a sturdy wooden desk
with almost full desk drawers.
I intend to read the novels,
I intend to sort the bills,
I intend to scan the photos
before another drawer is filled.
Despite my good intentions,
I work here every day,
spending all my hours
sending emails on their way.
There’s always room for screen time
among the piles of things to do,
but I hope that in the meantime
I might unstack a thing or two.
Free time is not the answer,
and it’s not the things I mention.
It’s what I do with busy
that holds true to my intentions.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Intentions. I use my home office for both my day job and my personal affairs so this poem was inspired by how they can sometimes stack up on each other.
Poetry Prompts and Poems 