The shuffle of feet on this smooth, worn floor,
Those tears tell a story
And that smile has a secret.
So many faces, so differential –
on the phone, reading the paper,
listening to the droning

of the strange, robotic man.
There’s coffee being served to
that woman in red,
And a baby girl yawns,
wanting her bed,
Don’t forget the beat
of that music in my head.
But,

There’s nothing I can do
to speed this tedious stop,
shouting at the board, and
its angry, orange lights.
I laugh at this mess, this
awful interruption to these pointless people’s lives.
I laugh because the
power’s up for grabs – it’s lost!
Juggling all these numbers in this space;
they drop,
it stops,
but we don’t.
These busy lives, that we
Run and run around,
The delay, the price we pay,
power’s lost.
Time is crossed.