The cycle

October 12, 2009
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Silence in the morning
No ring of the bell
Or swish of the door.
New faces were like whales in a pond.
On that morning no living thing other than a fly or two,
Passed through that gateway.

Boredom filled the room,
Like steam fills a sauna.
With nothing to do,
They sat down and prepared themselves instead,
The first stroke of tint touched,
The first patch of her skill,
The sound of the heavy door being opened
Consumed the chamber.

Maybe but they felt as though
They were being watched,
Watched by people waiting for the perfect moment.
The perfect moment to interrupt
The peaceful serine.

Each time they relaxed and attempted to breathe,
The dreaded sound of the door awakened them.
More and more people marched in,
As if they had no care in the world.
Annoyance bubbled up in each worker,
But they kept it contained just long enough
To finish their stressful day.

Although these clients do anger the employees.
Nothing leveled the pain of the fact that
They had to do the exact same thing tomorrow.

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