‘X’ Marks the spot
Right on the dot
Arms grasping not to let go
And only you know
The sound of sharpening knives
And the slicing deftly and so swiftly
Smells of sweat and toil
And clattering of pans and bunches of foil
Vagrants through the window and on the sidewalks
Chatter loudly and loosely with engines of cars passing by
Of melted butter and margarine
Your silken skin
Cold to the touch
With rhythmic breathing
A carefully knitted tank-top
Meets smooth conditioned hair
With coarse blue jeans you have flair
From out there, smell of whisky wafting in
And blending with the yeast...
Too busy, you couldn’t care the least
A single tossle of your hair
Sets the timer ringer buzzing
Back to work
With slams of clattering doors
And textures of dough and fleeting flours
Falling to unsightly, chaotic floors
Awhile ago, a different job, a different time
Like dough to bread
You moved on
Wandered, then vastly fled
Outside, a vagrant collapsed
Sounds of glass breaking
And smells of expelled acids
Oh well, your hair glitters in the light
Like smiling stars in the night
Customers come and go
With shouts, chatters and laughs
Sometimes the bread doesn't turn out just right
So the door shuts with – -‘Bah-Ding’
It can be quite a shuttering ring
A day in the life of a rising bakery
Budding and blossoming
Most prominent: French and Rye
So, prep for the next day
Vagrants left
And all is put away
It’s time to go
A look outside
test reside
The gleam of fast cars whizzing by...
Cross your heart, hope not to die
Right on the dot
Arms grasping not to let go
And only you know
The sound of sharpening knives
And the slicing deftly and so swiftly
Smells of sweat and toil
And clattering of pans and bunches of foil
Vagrants through the window and on the sidewalks
Chatter loudly and loosely with engines of cars passing by
Of melted butter and margarine
Your silken skin
Cold to the touch
With rhythmic breathing
A carefully knitted tank-top
Meets smooth conditioned hair
With coarse blue jeans you have flair
From out there, smell of whisky wafting in
And blending with the yeast...
Too busy, you couldn’t care the least
A single tossle of your hair
Sets the timer ringer buzzing
Back to work
With slams of clattering doors
And textures of dough and fleeting flours
Falling to unsightly, chaotic floors
Awhile ago, a different job, a different time
Like dough to bread
You moved on
Wandered, then vastly fled
Outside, a vagrant collapsed
Sounds of glass breaking
And smells of expelled acids
Oh well, your hair glitters in the light
Like smiling stars in the night
Customers come and go
With shouts, chatters and laughs
Sometimes the bread doesn't turn out just right
So the door shuts with – -‘Bah-Ding’
It can be quite a shuttering ring
A day in the life of a rising bakery
Budding and blossoming
Most prominent: French and Rye
So, prep for the next day
Vagrants left
And all is put away
It’s time to go
A look outside
test reside
The gleam of fast cars whizzing by...
Cross your heart, hope not to die
Best draft yet! I only have a few nit-picky comments.
ReplyDelete"The sound of sharpening knives / And the slicing deftlysmells of sweat and toil." Seems a little clunky. Maybe something else like: "Sounds of sharpening knives / swiftly deftly slicing / Wafting smells of sweat and toil"
"...with engines of cars passing by" also seems a little clunky.
"...smell of whiskies waft in" The plural of whisky dosn't work for me.
I don't know what your intent is with "Oh well, your hair glitters in the light." I read it as sarchasim and that she dosen't care about the chaos that is outside.