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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Oct 2019
The breakfast club
Hard to believe
must try harder.
Sat in the same seat
going to the same place
watching commuters race
to get on the train
Monday, again?
As Mondays go
this one started slow
no doubt due
to
the Hadron Collider.
Expect the unexploded.
Cashing in on the fashion
she's wearing a kaftan
which is looking worn out.
Her
with a finger to her forehead,
try to commune with the dead?
or perhaps scratching a spot.
I'm dressed in black
mourning the passing
of a weekend.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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