The Last

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Sundays

As I say goodnight to today,
I awake to find it is Monday.
Another day of work
and stress.

Think we all feel that shame.

Only a few minutes to go until then.

If only we could just keep
dreaming.

If only…

Untitled

Each morningThey ease on the train.
Tired faces of men

Amongst powered faces of women.
The tin of music.

The awkward glances.
The nasal calls of those

Who dream.
The throat clears;

The sneezes;

The threat of disease.
Yet here we sit.

A commuting community;
Yet held in

each other’s ignorance.
How far apart a man can be,

When abreast with humanity.