The Man

Sitting at the gate,what a dreadful way to go.
Looking up and looking down,
When you don't really know.
Waiting for the man who has the final say,
racking your brain as it grows longer in the day.
You finally see him coming,although the lights a little bright.
He says the words that ease you so,second dock on the right.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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