Late

by Clive Reedman
(UK)

Late

Another morning, sun just rising
Bowl of porridge, toast and tea
To the train, grabbing brolly
Kiss the wife and pretend to hurry
"May be late, conference call, late afternoon."
"love you dear, now see you soon."

Head of fast to station
Changing though your destination
Today the train goes South
Taking you to that willing mouth
Warm bed in cheap hotel room
For the day dispelling gloom.

Back home at eight.
"Sorry love, said I'd be late."
A letter opened, thrust in your face
Tears and tremors, lies told in haste
Lives destroyed by ageing's fears
A bedsit room, whiskey and tears.