Payment

A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’ I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing, Pained anticipation saw it all: Foretold, another filthy day. I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out The puddles; irksome on the roof – The drumming drops of bitter glee Were hounding out a hapless me – Reinforcing doubt that I am sound. I left the house to go to work to earn a crust without a perk then on to bust another straining vessel. Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered: ‘Why a drought of happy times? Auspicious climes were Old and fusty books Atop a dusty shelf Inside a morgue-of-a-room, Somewhere in a long-forgotten library Down a lane without a way.’ I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’ Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010 O how I work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work