Patricia Cresswell Poet Free verse

Working Man

working man

early, six days 
before dawn
while I, still curled
warm in bed, listen
he leaves
whispers goodbye
as he passes my door.

every day
as the noon whistle blows
I carry his lunch pail
we sit surrounded by scents
wood, varnish, turps
sunlight washing over us
sandwiches, hot tea and stories.


at night I wait 
perched on the stoop 
watch him stride
down our street
swinging his arms
dusk crosses the avenue
behind him
a tram bell clangs
gaslights flicker on
in rows of windows.

we are the engines 
he says
we make the world 
move forward.

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Runping Chen October 2, 2017 at 4:22 AM Jobs vary but all work values. "we are the engines" of ourselves, family, factory, community and country, maybe which is that life means. Patricia Cresswell October 2, 2017 at 7:37 AM I agree all people should be respected for doing a good job. But it is not like that now but then we are respecting each other in general less and less. Thank you for commenting. I love tour poetry.

Line Gauthier October 1, 2017 at 6:30 PM Very well crafted. Enjoyed your piece. Patricia Cresswell October 1, 2017 at 6:54 PM Thank you for your comment.