Running Late

If sirens were real
It’s Florence + the Machine
Knowing when to use volume
Then flutter, then fade in
Leading him 

Changing lanes with 
Reckless resolve
Turning
As soon as the lever’s shift
Arrow light clicks

Why is everybody 
Paced on a Sunday
When there’s a lot of life
To be rushed in

As another lent moment
Developing, yellowing
Accumulating

Running late
Running early
Racing, no mind,
When seconds pass 
Just taking its time