Afternoon Lullaby

The afternoons in this office,
Call out aloud.
Cubicle against people,
Board against bored.
The yellow summer day,
Sweat outside.
As the remnants of
Shared lunchboxes,
Float inside.

The afternoons in this office,
Smell of lullabies,
Sang in nurseries,
And chambers alike.
There is a matron here too,
Not too musical,
Neither worth time,
Nor of respect.
Blabbers, demands,
Meaningless aspects.

The afternoons in this office,
Blossom on marble,
And blemish as hell.
Wooden cabinet like,
Stoic I sit,
Cubicle against cubicle,
Bored every bit.

The smell of a lullaby,
Descends loftily with a sigh.