'left for you that worksheet...
On your desktop...
You need to that keep...'
She had left a note
On his computer deliberate...
He had works to do...
Workaholic... wasn't he?
Works...
A small life...
And a lot of works...
So
She thought it would be wise
To leave certain notes
On the desktop...
And she colored it...
Highlighted...
He must not it miss...
He had his works...
Columns of smoke to build
Over an ashtray...
And then to write some...
An architect...
And a God...
And groceries to be still maintained
And electricity bills were to be paid...
Medicinal plants for an old man...
A special biscuit can for the puppy...
A hurricane tour to keep some old friends happy...
A pending infrastructural issue...
Toilet running out of tissue...
A bank note with a dubious thread...
And most importantly...
A road that to a journey proper led...
He had surely works...
Catching pictures of storks...
And also of the sky blue as reflected on a small puddle clean...
To memorise multiplication table of nineteen...
(for the kid at home who always sleeps on his breast)
And songs to be downloaded straight...
Some mails marked as spam...
Some submissions marked as pretty dumb
Some movies not yet seen but stored...
To think out another urban folklore...
To connect with New Jersey via skype®...
words sixteen hundred or more to type...
But the note
On the desktop highlighted
He thought he properly it sighted...
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