Your phone Chirrups, Insisting we wake from our lazy lucidity. The Ruffle of material, The Zirruping of your trousers As you tug your workwear over your unashamed legs, Sliding the clasp of your belt Snug to your hips. Warms wafts of oil and rubber trespass Amidst our gummy-eyed 'Goodbyes' and 'Love-You-Lots'. Concluded in the Chang of the door; Chased down the road by the Warble of your work van. Pelting Slaps on concrete slabs. Bag and books Bustling me along, to hop, skip and jump Alight the school-bound bus - A 'senior citizen'. A second youth.
Rendezvousing at the front door, Keys titilate the lock - Coaxing it to let us in, Where we crumple, used carried bags. Empty and abandoned now the day is closing.