This place can be a odd place at times, from
the perspective of someone who has lived here
A spot of morning doom and gloom, followed by a
sprinkle of living for the weekend. I see/hear
that every day.
Faces of daily astonishment at prices. Anti-love
of jobs. Scraps of freedom at lunchtime.
The morning anxiety passes and the sun finally
Faces accept their daily fate.
Self service transforms into silver service.
More offers and acceptances.
Smiles and laughter fill the finite free moments.
The bell rings. The tumbleweeds roll. The
office is a desert and the drinks begin to flow.
The relaxed evening is filled with full
stomachs and tired eyes, before it starts again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem