A nip in the air that pinches my skin
wrapped up in swaddling to keep the warmth in
I grow old with the memory of once being young
not believing that this time has finally come.
This is fun or ii could be if it wasn’t me but it is and it’s not.
Wednesday is a day to complain
to look all about you and place
the blame on a passer by,
I try not to but I do.
the number of the carriage I’m on
I think it’s the same as every other carriage
only the passengers differ
and if a
seat becomes available I’ll take it
rest these bones for a bit
before I have to go and do a bit
Destinations are what keeps me from
stagnation and I see one coming
what fun in
a moment and then there’s more movement,
a minute forever lost
Blame it on Wednesday
blame it on low pay
blame everything and everyone
blame it on the the carriage that
takes me from
where I want to be.
© 2018, John Smallshaw.