Christine Phillips Poet Narrative

You Never Come

You never come when I need you
You never come when I am thinking about you
Your never come when the sun is hot
You never come when I am gallivanting in my pretty frock.

I saw someone today wearing a hard white hat
And something that looked like a gas mask 
Sticking out at your side with a strange puff
I stared briefly but the body structure was very deceiving
So I said to myself something seems pretty confusing;
You must have gained or lost some weight
And you must be the one I saw standing at the gate

It was just a month ago another figure stood by the cane cart
Wearing a broad summer hat and holding a big umbrella
When the sun wasn’t  even hot 
it was like a puppet on a string looking in

I looked at you briefly but you kept that fixed stare 
So I said to myself that it couldn’t be you
And so the saga continued and the mystery prolonged

It is Monday afternoon and there is no Monday blues
But here I am sitting in the dusty park in this melancholy mood 
The birds are flying from tree to tree, and they are looking very happy they are swinging with the breeze and they are at ease

The Monday crowd is slowly building up in the street
With big colorful umbrella lined up on both sides 
And the people calling out to buy their earnest cries
Their products are not very cheap but they are selling in the burning Monday afternoon heat

The birds are singing, and the traffic is flowing, 
The music is playing loud 
And the people are moving about

A woman dressed in black top and pink trousers  
Sit reluctantly on the park table 
With legs crossed and her body at large

She sits closey beside her friend
Swearing about what I don’t know
But she was waiting until Sunday
 to give someone piece of her tongue
before the start of the miserable show

And just as I figured out what upsets her so much
Someone from outside shouts
 “come out a de park” I looked around 
But no one was around 
“A PNP park this a noh Laborite park
“A PNP builds it and me not coming out”
The furious woman sitting on top of the table shouts

Politics in the home politics in the street
Politics on the lips of everyone you greet
Nothing constructive, nothing conducive
Oh how much my heart is aching?

Perspiration is running off my back
And the wind is spinning around like a clock
I am sitting here with my hands on the key board
Drained from the things transpiring around me

It is this troubled feeling that won’t go away
It is the feeling you get when something
Mysterious is going to happen, negative or positive
I do not know but this feeling is making my heart grow
Tears is springing up in my eyes but I still cannot cry
And there is no one on which I can rely
Perhaps the Monday blues is just setting in
 And I have to embrace it without a grin

You never come when the sun is hot
You never come when courage 
is boiling underneath my hat
You never come when I needed you
But when the rhythm is right
 and the almighty is by my side
I hope that you will come on time and join me.

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