Email Poem

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Poem

Working 9 to 5


The constant rumble of the fans above my head,
That cool me down, so I don't feel too tired.
The crashing bangs, of heavy metal things,
As the machines continue to work, 
To produce metal sheets.


The thunderous press machine, 
Thumps another piece of metal,
As the production line keeps moving, 
Full of different people.
Each of them standing, in their own specific spot;
Capable of breaking the chain, 
If one of them is gone.


So just hang your metal onto the track;
The thing that made me quit before, but I came back.
And now here I am, stronger and wiser,
Better than before;
Now they've offered me the job full time.


But I know, I can do better than this,
For I wish to be a poet, an author and a lyricist.
I just keep looking at the clock, 
Waiting for another minute to pass.
Damn!  I'm sure it's stopped;
I've surely been here longer than that.
No; it's just because,
I'm not using my head
And thinking to make time pass quicker 
And not just waiting for it to be 10.


At last!  It's here, we all give a silent cheer,
Or a sigh of relief, that the day is done.
At last, now we can all go home.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

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