The inconsiderate old sun
Hurried its way to the West
Behind the hill to chime the bell
Signaling the fast ebbing day.
He grinned
As he counted yet another loss.
His tired brown coat billowed
In the breeze as he waited for a bus.
From the blotches, one could tell
It was originally black
Now aged and decoloured by misery.
His misery weighs more than the sand
In the sea
Sighs became his food and thoughts
Maybe he was never cut out
For white-collar jobs.
And like a rabbit holed up
In its burrow
He rummaged the stomach of his files
To make sure nothing was missing.
For the umpteenth time,
He lost an employment interview.
He went home
Cleaned his shoes that yawn for polish
Hung his tired brown black coat.
Waited for the ticktack to announce
Another day.
Another opportunity.
@harrywill