An Idle Poem

I sit idly in this room
The day spreading out before me
An empty schedule. No to do lists.
Nowhere in particular to be.

Is this freedom?  Or captivation.
This tiny room,  and same old me.

When what I can do with my day,
Can be anything I want it to be.
Whether it is the best thing or the worst,
Really depends just on me.

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2 thoughts on “An Idle Poem

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