Friday, January 19, 2018

FIVE O'CLOCK

It begins almost immediately
As warm bodies filter halls
Which last night were void of
All human conveyance. Of
Trite conversations of yesterday's weather,
Of ball scores and dinner plans
Yet to be finalized.

Now it begins all over again,
The wishing, the longing to
Be somewhere else.
The nagging complaints about
Time better spent somewhere,
Anywhere else but this vast
Ho hum dump.

Time for a break; cut away from the wheel
Which incessantly spins
As the day drags its feet.
Must walk away for a moment or two
Or else throw up hands
In a sign of defeat.

Trucking along through
The muck and the mire,
Biding time just like one of the flock.
Secretly waiting for transformation,
The magic which happens
At five o'clock.


Lulu Storefront: http://www.lulu.com/dsmartin
Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dennis-S-Martin/e/B004SXY4LG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1394055582&sr=1-2-ent

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