THE GRIND

THE GRIND

By Phillip Miller

Drizzly old morning

No change on the train

Deadpan faces

Give no clue to their pain

Still we trudge

With brolly and jacket

In order to receive

A miserly pay packet.

It can’t be helped

It’s life as we know it

If sadness was money

Our wage slips would show it.

This all falls away

As I walk through the door

I am lifted at once

Like never before.

The drudgery vanishes

The sadness has gone

I’m home with my love

Just where I belong.

© Copyright Phil Miller