White Lines
John was painting white lines down the middle of the road
The lines extended rapidly but gradually slowed
The dotted line he'd painted was so accurately spaced
But then his boss said, “Sorry John, you’ll have to be replaced.
“I’m giving you your notice, John, your work rate’s going down,
This morning you got started and you reached the end of town,
After lunch you only painted thirty seven feet
And now it seems you’re really not much further up the street.”
John said, “Look I’m sorry boss, I am doing my best,
I didn’t know that I would face a time and motion test,
My line’s still getting longer, can’t you see how far I’ve got?
But every time I need the paint I’m further from the pot!”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
