At Autumn’s End

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #401

Words:  factories, crackle, be, cut, mouse, overseer, grin, win, cast, diminish, worth, ideas

Sidewalks strewn with autumn’s
leaves of death crackle
under her feet. The sooner
these endings diminish,
she thinks, it will be winter.
Eyes cast down at her watch
remind her that Bob, over-
seer at the factory she slaves
for, will not be wearing
a grin if she is late. No,
Bob’s mousy brown toupee
will be out of whack,
silver poking out the sides.
Reviled by workers, Bob cuts
no one slack. In years past,
she had pitched him worthwhile
ideas which he promptly
ignored. A winning day
for him is to be left alone.
She smiles. That will be
accomplished soon.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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