Home » Poetry » Working Day

Working Day

Messy desk, piles of paper
Time for mid morning tea
All these emails yet to answer
The phone is going once again
Outside the world is whirling
Far removed from this tiny room
I wish I was out for a walk
Under the trees among the green
Instead of between four walls
That feel like a prison today
Hot liquid warms my throat
As I dreamily stare outside
Soon I will return
To the tasks that lay ahead
Make a tricky phone call
That was put off for too long
Attending an afternoon meeting
At which nothing will be resolved
O I wish I felt the sunshine
The breeze upon my face
Another few days to wait
Until my time will be my own
The weekend will be waiting
Two days that go too fast
With a sigh my eyes return
To the papers on my desk
For now there’s no use dreaming
Of what is yet to come


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