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at the factory
poet at the factory
It had been a long day at the factory but
when there was a break, he jotted down a few words
and during the day, it became a poem- he always
had a pen and block ready, words were so flighty he may
forget what he wanted to write if he waited too long.
Coming home and told his wife
I wrote a whole poem today, a good poem
his wife asked if the poem was about her, no he said it was about a tree
the one at the entrance of the village.
His wife went back to the kitchen and slammed the door
The poet came out of his cocoon and said to his wife:
All my poems are about you, my muse, with you at my side
I can`t write about the old tree in the village
They kissed and made up, and both lived long and had good deaths blissfully unnoticed by the world.
Copyright ©
Jan Hansen
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