Where are you ..

It's getting near that dreaded time.
The Christmas sales and Pantomime.
I juggle balls and spin those plates,
praying l will not be late.

Time management, my availability.
These are words that terrorise me.
Jumping on buses, too and fro.
The traffic's horrendous, pedestrians slow.

I eat my dinner standing up, on a wee bus
from a screw top cup.
Slurping drinks that splash and drip.
Wiping tea from my chin and lip.

Well l must make tracks, get on my way,
to begin a long, eventful day.
It's all a tad hectic, bit dramatic at times.
I still miss that lovely feeling of your hand around mine ..