Tuesday, 19 April 2016

Blank verse

It was a hard day
And tossing her head
She let the grey hairs
Wipe tears from her eyes.

Frustration welled up
From inner springs she
Thought had long dried up
Of all their tears.

Her hand reached to bring
The iPhone within grasp.
A quick flick, and then
Battery flat!

No way to confirm
That bad days like this
Will come to end, in
Forty two months.


  1. Margaret I am so sorry to hear that this job is so awful. 42 months is WAY too long to put with this. Grasp the nettle and start looking elsewhere for something. You got this job so you can get another...don't delay, you have good skills and you cannot spend your life like this. Hugs from the UK.

  2. Oh Margaret, you seem to be going through a rough patch of bad days.
    Could you look for another job perhaps - counting the months into years isn't a good idea.

  3. I agree, don't count your life away, my dear......

  4. So sorry to hear that your days are so bad at the moment. Nice to be able to express yourself in poetry though!