A Day Off
It’s a day off today; what are we supposed to do?
Stand watching the rain pouring down,
forming rivers?
Gutters overflow beside the ragged kerb stones;
shops folornly stand there waiting in futility,
as welcoming as hoodlum grins.
Coughs and sneezes, aches and shivers;
cracking our heads against dead end brick walls,
skulls disintegrating
amidst cold comfort charity bazaars
and bottomless bargain bins
It’s a day off today; for that matter, every other day.
We crumple beneath the drag of time,
bones straining.
Somewhere a better tomorrow smiles down upon sorrow;
for now small change sparsely falls in a tin can
as more user friendly causes are needing.
Broken scratch card promises, no point in complaining;
is there any sense of dignity or belonging for us
perchance to borrow?
Or just remain forgotten lost causes
where the last of love lies bleeding?
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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