A Days Work
The sound of keys on a key board
with the sounds of telephones
makes my brain want to pop.
Sitting down in a chair,
spinning from side to side
I am very bored
I wish this day will stop.
Phone call after phone call,
nonchalant in the voices,
makes the day go by slower.
Two more hours on the job,
I tell myself
and it will all be over.
This poem is about:
My community