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poetry about life

friday night

Friday Night
My shift has ended
Put my apron down and call a cab
My red umbrella and coat take the seat of another man
Raindrops cling to the window
And the city's inky black
Here I am with British pop and rock of long ago
The driver hums and sings along but I don't know the words
If I did, it wouldn't matter because it's Friday night
My shift has ended
Friday night and I just wanna go home

--christine stoddard

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