Day's End Poem by Joe Howell

Days End
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It's a silent time, when i pack it all in,
call it a night, walking to my bed
and giving thanks for living another day

i take pride in small things, that some call nuts
like im all-ways early for work, that's just me
stay late if i need to, to get everything
lined up for the next person, come this way

don't own a cell phone, i don't need to talk
while i drive, and if you need me, im useally
in the same place i was yesterday, at this time

some may call it bore-ing, going 40 where
thats the speed limit, i guess that why they pass
me, with fingers waving in the air
but we end up at the same red light

im just a simple man, caught up in a
multi directional latatude of light