A book's laid out in front of me.
Broken spine keeps my place.
Heat from both radiator
and unfamiliar sun.
I close my eyes,
wishing half an hour
would disappear
like it does on any other day.
Ticking of nails on plastic keys,
behind and in front.
The sound of a generation.
Distant talking and traffic light beeps
masked
by cold-ridden breath.
A car drives passed the window,
slowly. And then it's gone.
Hidden beneath the beep
of a successful loan.
Still the sound beats all.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
A book's laid out in front of me.
Broken spine keeps my place.
Heat from both radiator
and unfamiliar sun.
I close my eyes,
wishing half an hour
would disappear
like it does on any other day.
Ticking of nails on plastic keys,
behind and in front.
The sound of a generation.
Distant talking and traffic light beeps
masked
by cold-ridden breath.
A car drives passed the window,
slowly. And then it's gone.
Hidden beneath the beep
of a successful loan.
Still the sound beats all.
Written on the 4th March 2013 while trying to do research for a presentation. Another part of my Northampton poems.