NUMBERS IN AN OFFICE

There’s an assortment of numbers

Hanging on the office’s wall.

Each a different person to call.

And yet they are filled with wonder.

 

Look at how each number can weave

It’s way through the lines of the board,

Or together become a hoard,

Asking for each of us to leave.

 

Yet we stay here, sitting alone,

With our hands clutching the dials.

Our mouths sound like nail files

As they beg us “please” to go home.

 

And it isn’t till the clock strikes five

That we will get to leave them be.

It isn’t till then that we see,

These poor numbers become alive.

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