The Question

I was sitting in my desk.
It was just another call.
Another client that is all.
He had plenty of time.
He was a very chatty man,
He sounded like a yes I can.
It was just another call at work,
Until he asked a simple question,
Nothing to do with my profession.
What is the meaning of life?
He seemed amused to ask.
I was not trained on such a task.
I started my simple answer:
“That’s a big question,”
With firmness I mentioned.
“There’s not one meaning to life,
For it is different for every person.”
Beatriz 09/27/2013 

Live life, create your own meaning 


About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Question

  1. rita kowats says:

    So clever! I enjoyed it. Thanks.

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