Under Cover

Even when I wore a suit and tie,
And was at work all day, I felt
More like a spy than someone
Dedicated to his job. Oh, sure,
I combed through printouts
Of statistics, and I wrote reports.
My bosses gave me good reviews,
But anytime I wasn't watched,
I'd grab a piece of paper and my
Mind would spiral far away,
And I would write a poem,
A dispatch to those somewhere
Who waited to hear from
Their spy.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 50 times
Written on 2016-10-31 at 16:34

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text