Saturday, 10:50 am
"Has something happened today?"
A perplexed gentleman eyes the maddening crowd.
There is slow-burning restlessness in the air.
There is a secret dread of another day
Of air conditioned deals in formally relaxed attire,
Of children's mutiny against their hapless parents,
Of tradesmen and salespeople nodding to penny-saving customers,
Of young couples figuring their way around the eggshells
And everyone else just plodding only half resolutely along.
"Might something happen tomorrow too?"
The question will be left to go hang itself
For there are nuggets of joy to be had here and now.
Light the slow bustle and hustle busy all anxious minds
With their overdue share of adventure and respite.