Welcome To The Nightshift Poem by Anthony Foster

The roar of machinery and the heat of the furnace,
Outside all is quiet amidst the soft black cloak of darkness,
My eyes sting with tiredness in the poor light,
Welcome to the shift in the night.

The radio blares loudly above the din,
Don’t those D Js sound jolly and awake?
The screech of metal over concrete a moving bin,
Bright molten metal runs from a broken mould.

The repetitive effort of a boring task,
A finished casting looking clean and neat,
With aching limbs we labour on,
While the town quietly sleeps

Not much longer will I toil in this hellish place,
They have told me my job is at risk,
To give me the time to think, to give me the space,
To write and develop my poetry.