Each day the light slips
into the murky shadows
of the bedroom-morning-depression
Cars swish by
in the rush hour of work
and school
routines, timetables and teabreaks
weekday working
full of purpose.
On the edge, outside the frame
margin people wait
silenced and destination free
unmapped, unseen
locked tight
in a circle
cruising
their perimeter
only hoping for a break.
© M.L.Emmett
original unpublished poem 1996
revised 16/01/2012