My fingers ticked away at the dusty keyboard
My eyes bolting toward the time in the corner of my screen every now and again
It was so late that the janitors’ vacuums had turned off long ago and the door to my office was locked from the outside
My eyes had steaks of scarlet gracing its pearly whiteness
My childish soul weary and restless
And my professional demeanor worked to the core
The bouncing from the city streets of a child basketball made my head pound in regret
I closed my computer, sat down on the floor and took off my blazer
I put it on the floor, rolled up
I rested my head and laid down on the floor
Becoming one of the many foul things that had been on this carpet
I smelled from the many days of sleeping at the office
I hadn’t felt the scorching sun on my skin in days
Simply from the amber glow of the streetlight that lit child’s play at night
The thud of the basketball repeated again
My brain was void of distraction
So I laid there
With my memories and regrets
Tugging at my soul
I had never been the one to bounce the basketball
Or play in the street lamp’s light
Or sleep on somebody else’s floor
But here I am
The child who sat on the side of the playground
Reading a book
The child who graduated top of their class
The child who had a mind that swirled with colors
The child who was always voted most likely to
And yet the child who just works a lowly desk job
For my child is restless
And my child wants to play now
Though it is not impossible
It’s highly improbable
That I will ever become a child again
So my child lays dormant
Always ready
But I can’t bear to tell them they´ll never come out again