The shining sun, full of pride, watching
As a breeze gently strokes my face with it's soft blue hands
The clear blue sky does not let on
It's face of grey, tear-stained and cold
That it revealed before.
Grass plays on the ground with the breeze
And moves out of my way
As I tiptoe across
A gentle giant in a town of little green people.
Into the concrete and glass structure
Towering above me and exerting it's power.
Leaving the joy of the day,
and into impending doom.
Cluttered Kitchens
Grumpy cooks look on with contempt
Chef's moan about the stupidity,
and donn their fake smiles in a place where they do not belong.
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