The sunday blues.

Sitting in the dark room.
He waits.
The cigarett burns slowly in his hand.
He waits.

The news on tv flashes.
He waits.
The lotto numbers are revealed.
He waits.

The beer bottles from last night.
He waits.
Standing on the table still.
He waits.

The sun slowly comes up.
He waits.
The alarm goes off.
He waits.

Suddenly he gets up.
No more time to wait.
Walks out to the car.
Drives of as the carphone rings.

His boss on the phone.
Yes he is on his way.

Copyright 2007 Nyorioko.




Poetry by Nyorioko
Read 360 times
Written on 2007-08-29 at 12:21

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