Wandering

The meetings are boring,
And the meetings are long.
The meetings are dreadful,
And wretched, and wrong.

But there's one thing that
I can get from meeting:
A freedom to drift
To thoughts normally fleeting.

There I sit, in a room,
Bored, in a chair,
And oblivious to the meanderings
Around me. Without a care.

And then my mind wanders
Like a fly and a shoo,
And where it falls
Is gently upon you.