White Ted looked flat;
that hair and pyjama bed smell.
She was getting heavier
My bleary eyes trying not to sleep.
Bone protruded from flesh,
blooded the seat and gearstick;
leaning in best I could
to cannulate, set up drip by torchlight
as Firefighters started cutting.
She smiled and tightened her grip;
I kissed her forehead
still feeling the bitter cold.
Fluorescent coat bulkily hindering
as cracking metal sheered;
dressing the open bloody carnage.
Suddenly toast popped up,
"Have a good day at school" I said,
fighting my tiredness.
The mangled wreck still lingered
as I put my daughter down,
heading for bed, another shift tonight.
acute power of love- Have a good day at school I said, fighting my tiredness./// lovely poem
Tough job, Clive. Your poem vividly expresses how work-place tragedy spills over into family life, especially under the pressure of night-shifts. Concisely constructed.
Seems so true. It is the end of the shift and one feels tired to enjoy with family and friends. Enjoyed.10+++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She smiled and tightened her grip; I kissed her forehead still feeling the bitter cold. i put my daughter down heading for bed. a fine poem. tony
thanks for commenting on my poem Another Day At The Office, , much aprreciated, .