Office

But what can you do?
This mind is not your own
It scurries away
Like a rabit
Unto the recesses unknown

So while you are at
your morning tea
or into the day busy
This mind of your yours
Yours but not your own
Is out in the open and
it flees before you see

What can you do
but follow?
To and fro
to and fro

And it
Not wanting to be caught
leaves you a little trail
to halt and slow
for your thoughts frail
to grow

But if you keep your breath
and not rue
and catch its tail but briefly
And let it go
you'll pick a virtue.

But now my dearie,
Please prick your skin
You've got job to do.