i was working a shift
waitressing in town,
my stare kept getting stuck
across the street on a sign,
“my lord” it says
and i read it on repeat,
while the restaurant was filled
with faces and a beat
it was a busy day
but a sense of peace nonetheless,
then some words stood out
among all the rest
“my lord!” beamed a woman,
in a polka dotted dress

there was no devision,
between me and all the rest,
peace had been laid upon us,
and planted in our chests

just the day after
i was working another shift
again my stare kept getting stuck
across the street on the sign
“my lord” it says
and i read it on repeat
while the restaurant got filled
with people and a beat
another busy day
but the sense of peace felt less,
then came the words
that stood out among the rest
“my lord!” cried a woman,
with the sound of distress

and for the day,
there was no devision
between me and all the rest,
peace had left us,
though the day was as blessed

did the air feel different,
or were the winds too stressed?
did our feet walk out of rythm,
to the beat of all our chests?
or did only one wake up,
heavy hearted,
lonelier than the rest?
we’re more connected
than we think,
though the scene’s stay the same
our insides stay linked
“my lord”
i think,
staring across the street,
the words shimmering,
with an undeniable blink