Twenty-Four Hours

Posted on Dec 5, 2011

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Dark it is as the alarm goes off
In deep sleep he wishes to be lost
Warm and snug under the quilt
The cold morning reaches its chill

Next to him his girlfriend lays
Sleeping soundly, in bed she stays
Lost in dreams on warm beaches
Her feet in the sea, reality never reaches

Five more minutes he says to himself
It won’t hurt, it may even help
But drifts off for half an hour more
He panics, gets ready, rushes from the door

Fumbling for his keys, his car to work
It won’t start, he’s going berserk
So to the station he runs for a train
He’s cutting it fine, such a pain

Just through the office door with minutes to spare
No-one really notices, no-one cares
Three hours have passed since he left home
Wonders if his girlfriend is up, all alone

Midnight he went to bed last night
Stayed up to watch the fight
Four to five hours sleep he got
No much more, never a lot

Lunch break approaches in a flash
A hell of a morning, he cuts a dash
To the pub, he wolf’s down lunch
Colleagues are with him, not a bad bunch

Four hours to go as he heads back
Miserable customers, personality lacks
His day has been a mixed bag till then
He just wants to be back home in bed

Before he knows it, time to go home
But like a fool, he’s been asked to stay on
Two hours extra he puts in for them
Nothing beneficial will come of it for him

Close to eight in the evening
As he walks to the station, leaving
He looks longingly at the warmth of a pub
With a real fire burning brightly and hearty grub

He awoke in the dark and journeyed in
Left work and it’s very dark again
The train rumbles on as he nears his stop
A ten minute walk up a hill to the top

His hand shaking with the cold he keys the lock
It’s quiet where he is, no sound on the block
He shambles in all tired and weak
He wants a bath and something warm to eat

His girlfriend is nowhere to be seen
A note she’s left, Her mother’s she’s been
Late she said, she’ll be back
Out with friends, something he lacks

Too busy with work they all are
Never the time to travel far
Their neighbours they don’t know very much
One’s on night-shift, security or some-such

He has his bath and something small to eat
By now past ten, he falls asleep
The tv on in the background
He doesn’t hear his girlfriend or any sound

She gently awakes him from the sofa so soft
He smiles up at her, an angel he loves
She walks him to bed with gentle words
Too tired is he, most go unheard

Midnight again by the time he sleeps
Passes out, his daily treat
A few more hours and it starts again
Before he stumbles out of bed…

Posted in: Poetry