WHERE THE WORDS GO

I just thought about the title and I liked it.

Many thoughts spring like mushrooms everyday while I go home from work in the public transport.

I see many people doing people things --begging, ignoring, reading, being indifferent, listening to their I-Pods, self-absorbed, fighting, hurting, crying, laughing.

I read them.

I think them.

I cannot get to write them because I arrive tired and with achy feet.

I have too many things to do and too short a time.

Exercise, rest, cook, talk to my offspring.

Pet my pet.

I go to sleep.

I can't sleep.

I think too much.

Can't relax.

Get up just when I was getting sleepy.

Get into the shower.

Get into the clothes.

Get into the public transport.

Get into the lift.

Get into my desk.

Seldom into my words.

Where do all the words go?