Wednesday Twentyseventh Poem by Matthew Holloway

Wednesday twentyseventh
set in the autum, winter crossover
the streets which makeup my daily walk
dark, dampened by last nights rain
the sky above overcast
in a tomb like greyness
no birds heard, the roads quiet
I walk alone with my thoughts
still waking, yawning, sitring
my eyes heavy, sleep deprived
bones ache, shins sore
distant sounds, traffic rumbles
beyond the houses I pass
further up the road
a steel frame cimbs upwards
carrying electric cables
which buzz in the air
I walk on a little further
entering the same building
as so many days before
a life in employment
another day, same again