The hidden creatures, that no-one knows,
With overalls and sweaters hiding oversized flesh.
The gossip of the weekend is yet to be heard,
Yet the bingo session, is enough consolation.

The feet so sore after years of labour,
With breasts sagging after years of labour.
Overalls and sweaters hide the pain and scars.
Yet husbands still drink luke warm tea from china mugs.

The service is efficient, the smiles radiant,
Yet the mind is taxed and overworked.

An ashtray begs to be used for a second.
A habit for the nerves, yet work comes first.
The valium in the sugar bowl, awaiting use.
And the razor blade shines after years of labour.

© Edward ian Armchair 2002