Alarm at seven, lie in bed till eight.
Get up and shower, put the kettle on.
Email, coffee, cigarette — I’m late.
Smoke another; twist a quick chignon.
Jacket, keys, the bus to City Road.
Plug the laptop, slide into the chair.
Meetings, email, spreadsheets, overload,
Software dramas, customer hot air.
Weekdays turn to night before I leave,
Sometimes Soho — movie, drinking, flirt —
At home — why not — a nightcap couldn’t hurt.
At midnight always one last send/receive.
Life could be a richer brew than this
But this one’s wholly mine: thus, bliss.