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23rd December, 1999 | 15:35 – 15:45

Chilly Dark December Night –
and none that crossed your sight.

He, on his cycle,
paddled hard homewards,
with a mouth smoking in circles
the Air
out of his Lungs.

It had been
a busy Day – he thought,
with papers done,
computer run, and
advice given, and sought.

New faces seen,
some with, some without their sheen –
people who were good, or into
dirty politics, backstabbing
others. He hated hypocrites.

Then, there were those
two in the office who
fought for the chair; he
intervened, and let them
have his. He loved peace.

At 00:30 hrs, the phone rang.
The secretary told him ’twas his Mother,
Anxiously awaiting his return.
He said “I’d be home soon.”
He closed the files, thinking –
the day’s done.

As he paddled, he
Crossed a Bridge, enveloped
in a dense Fog, bathing in a
Bluish-White, Full-moon light.
He walked on clouds that night.

Thanks
to the Truck that hit him.

The Day was done.

~

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