A Soul

By Glen Savio Palmer

In her cubicle, so small and gray,

A soul toils from night to day.

The heart feels heavy, spirit low,

Spreadsheets and slides, a looming foe.

She takes a pen, a blank white sheet,

And lets her heart’s rhythm repeat.

All the feelings, hard to share,

The joy, the pain, the love laid bare.

Her pen moves with an elegant sweep,

In sync with her pulses deep.

As words begin their steady flow,

The sadness fades, the heart does grow.

Let the corporate overlords be loud,

Harsh and proud, a faceless crowd.

For in poetry, she finds her way

To peace and joy, on this chaotic day.

By Glen Savio Palmer