The Little Man

The little man works away at his desk

He comes in, early in the morning,
He sits at his desk and looks around,
Piles of files just a colourful rainbow.
Brown, cream, read, yellow, green,

The assortment of colours is endless,
Just like the work waiting ahead,
Multidimensional facets, it never ends.

The Little man works at his desk,
He works away, hour after hour,
with no end in sight, only a dim light ahead,
He looks at the window and smiles.

The little man works at his desk
He inputs information on the screen in front of him,
He pushes buttons all day long
Non-stop, except to have some lunch.

The Little man pulls his brown bag out
and goes downstairs to sit down
He opens the bag and takes out his lunch
fruits, a sandwich and a soft drink,
while he eats he looks around
but in the back of his mind he keeps working ahead,
trying not to forget.

The little man works at his desk
The pile on his desk is finally diminishing
He smiles and takes a deep breath,
and satisfaction shines in his eyes.

He keeps working away
He looks at the clock, just outside his door,
His heart pounds with happiness
while he waits for the hands to turn to 530,

He works away and tries not to look at the clock,

Time has sat still without passing by
It seems that everything has slow down
And he keeps working away.
It is 530 and time to go home
the little man leaves his desk for another day,
He goes home to rest, after a long day.
Tomorrow will be another day he says,
and the little will once again sit at his desk to work away
while the big man piles his desk with files,
And enjoys the afternoon off with pay.
Taking his friends to big and expensive restaurants.

He will order the most expensive wine
and the finest dessert, and probably the veal,
while the little man works away at his desk.

October 06, 2003