Dear Workhorse

By Sonya Rehman

I am wondering how,
It’s possible,
To burn the midnight oil,
And still feel a sense of connection,
To the ones you love,
Ah,
Dear workhorse,
Don’t fill each hour with to-do lists,
And micro plans,
Those little accomplishments,
What’s it leading to?
What are you leading to?
Got your blinkers on,
Will you allow society to steer you whichever way it wants,
Dear workhorse?
Enjoy the sunshine,
Those fickle hours,
They’ll be over soon,
From dust and to dust we become,
Dear workhorse,
When did you tuck your heart away,
And why?
Was it worth it?
Tear.
Up.
That to-do list.
And you tell society,
Next they ask: so, so so, what next?
Flip the bird,
And laugh,
And point to the sun,
Then,
Pop a lozenge in your mouth, since it’s getting colder,
And go for a long,
Long,
Stroll.

Old City, Lahore.
Old City, Lahore.
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