The Traffic- Jam Poem
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Shalom Freedman
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THE TRAFFIC- JAM POEM
There is no end to waiting
Time is as infinite
As frustration.
“This too shall pass”
As everything does.
But in the middle
In the neartime waiting
It seems we are all
Slowly slowly slowly
Inching along
Late already
Unable to know
The way out
Or the way in
To anywhere
Or anything
Else.
Trapped forever
By the world which surrounds us
Lost and alone
In the massive and meaningless multitude.
Bu şiiri puanla
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