Tracks

This is where they grew into the people that I once knew.

Friday
far away from the games we play,
but close enough to touch,
that’s as much as I know
because I didn’t grow,
remaining as I did in the shadows where I hid away,
Friday.

Cold outside and cold in here
I can see a
change arriving
or a station that I’ll stop in.

Hats and hoodies
bags of shopping
Christmas goodies
glad
I’m half asleep.

No connection on the direction
that I’m taking
but
I’m waking up and realising
there’s lots more pies to
put my fingers in.

Life has a strange way
and it’s usually a
Friday.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.