Rush Hour Poem by Morgan Michaels
Rush Hour
Rush hour, the doors slammed open.
In, disheveled, she swept.
'The poor soul', I thought, 'may God bless her'.
Then, capping a litany of woes:
'and my ex-husband', she revealed,
is also the father of my daughters'!
causing only a few callous riders
to lower their heads and smile.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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5/13/2024 6:41:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Alas, no. Unfortunately, she moved to the next car at the next stop. We had to be grateful for the little we learned. I think she had greater interest in what she might get out of us than of what we might get out of her. MM