Lunchtime Amongst Pots of Color

A poem for those of us who in work in concrete buildings and cubicles and covet our sunshine-filled lunch hour.

The hardness of a concrete bench

     windows looking down at me

          people inside, oblivious

Coveted city-filtered sunshine stolen

     until it fades

          moving on

Motorcycle, siren, beeps of car horns meld together

     a symphony of sorts

          rising up from the asphalt below

Sandwich eaten, apple crunched, it’s time to return

     to the cubicle with no sunshine or color

          my back still warm from the yellow embrace

Pacified

     cuz tomorrow will bring another

          affair with the Sun

When I shall sit and eat my sandwich

     in a bubble of peace with sounds

          of hectic around me

But I won’t care

     because I sit at lunchtime

          amongst pots of color.