It seemed to go off like clockwork
With lunch pail in hand I left
And cold were the late autumn’s clutches
The trees all denuded, bereft.
And no time to waste being groggy
The bus would be on-time for sure
Already the pulse of the factory
Winding up for a hard day. Endure.
And looking back once to our semi
An upper right window the spot
A curtain pulled back by a youngster
His wave I have never forgot.