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Poetry Pleases: The Path

The regular pacings of an office worker prompt speculations in this poem by Randal Looney.

I've seen you take this path at least a thousand days before
I wonder if its just a job or maybe something more
that keeps you in your dreadful space up on the 7th floor
Your suit immaculate pressed and neat
yet confidence lacking in your stride
with your breathing still in time
"Did I leave the iron on?"
What are the sounds and smells inside your house?
These things I ponder at my window
thirty feet above the wintry street

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