Full of optimism I jump in my car
My journey won’t take long; I’m not going far
At least that’s what I thought when I started
And now I’m stuck here brokenhearted
Sitting here waiting in this queue
My life choices I’m beginning to rue
I should have heeded the Facebook posts warning
That traffic is going nowhere this morning
I could have had an extra hour in bed
Or done something radical like walk instead
Yes, they’re digging up the road again
It’s enough to drive a person insane
And it’s four-way traffic control no less
No wonder everything is such a mess
Who decided equal time should be given
To random side roads rarely driven
And just when you think things couldn’t get any worse
They’re now all stuck on red as if possessed by some curse
What sort of diabolical mind could have conceived
That for four-way traffic control there’d ever be a need
Now with two or maybe three way I can just about cope
But four-way traffic control removes all hope
Of reaching your destination in a timely fashion
And when at last they are gone
Don’t be fooled that they are done
They’ve merely been moved to another location
Gillian Passman
We love receiving your poetry and print a selection every week. Email yours to [email protected] and we’ll do the rest
