Strutting
down the street
in my clacketty shoes,
feeling like a queen
in my worn out brown dress;
immaculate
in my dirty white coat.
Sidewalk vendors
and barbeque stalls
and tricycle drivers,
my loyal subjects.
I'm tired.
from a 32 hour shift
but I strut
like a model
with head held high,
because I know
somewhere
in the second floor balcony
you look down on me,
as I shorten the distance
between us,
and I wonder
what it is you're thinking.
Do you see someone
beautiful?
Do you feel proud
of the knowledge
that my day's journey's end
is at your side?
