Sunday, 10 December 2017

The man he killed

               Fans of poetry, read this spin-off at your own risk.

Had she and I but met
By some quaint, themed café,
We should have sat us down to get
Coffee or even a buffet.

But ranged as superior-subordinate,
And staring face to face,
We took turns spewing hate,
Forgetting it’s a workplace.

I fought her claim because-
Because it wasn’t making sense,
And was full of flaws;
’course, no offense.

She thought she’d work, probably,
Off-hand like – just as I –
Was looking to make money;
No other reason why.

Yes; strange and curious work is!
You bear someone ill will;
Though you’d chum up with the Miss;
And do nothing but chill.

No comments:

Post a Comment