Midnight Creek

Midnight Creek

 

The old plumber is back on the street

My bodies aching and I’m beat

Bloodied fingers and sore feet

Thoughts are drifting up midnight’s creek

 

I’ve crudely been reminded, how hard this job is to do

Cracked hands were turning black and blue

Bending and twisting, I willed myself through

Working the dusty tools, I was thinking of you

 

Pondering, I know I’ve given it my best

Here on my quiet riverbed, I rest

My joints will recover, in time for my next test

Tentatively, I’m flying out of this restoration nest

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019