Eyes awaken into the darkness
Put into action the routine I've mastered
Work is the only place I hear laughter
So I pick up my pace and get ready faster
I open the front door and face the blunt storm
Try to forget the storm and dream of the warm
Eyes squint as I perform the ritual morning yawn
Head out of the lift into the mist of the crisp night morn
With every step work draws me near
Face first into the rain
As the blistering wind blows out a tear
Grey city looking the same
Street lights give there orange glow thru the wet air
Individual raindrops dancing on the wind the perfect pair
Head down hood up shield my self from the open heavens glare
Contentment on my face as I walk thru the storm without a care
kaspa, ...the routine you have mastered...has much deeper and finer undertones. keep unravelling.
Love it, so frank and yet beautiful. Particulary the bit about the grey-ness, and it not changing. I find parts of this country hopelessly grey as well. Keep up the good work! Effie xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Kaspa: A very good write about the storm and also going to work, which is a real pleasure here in America where jobs are very scarace. I like the rhythem and the structure of the poem, very good. Your friend in Poetry Lynn