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Poetry: “After work”

Every day, every work day, always.


After work

A rickety framework
Of creaking limbs unfolding
Spilling out of the bus
Left blinking on the curb

Slow procession
Of weary bodies
Attention on those screens
A source of warmth in the dark

Street lights casting
A chilly glow
Making shadows dance
Specters on the march

Finally arriving home
Placing all burdens there
On the “welcome home” mat
And like cats, licking our wounds


Copyright © 2017 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent


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