Closing Bell

The clock chimed

(Aluminum pin flicking upright
Teasing with cheerful abandon
In a sea of lackluster white)

The hallways vibrated

(Eight feet wide, ten feet high
An escape route throbbing
With heat, footsteps and jealousy)

The elevators roared

(Tiny box ascending and descending
Filling briefly with faces and joy
Then left with an empty void)

The doors swung open

(Glass pivoting on its hinges,
Hesitantly… covetously crying
As it closed)

The engines roared

(Keys turned over with terrific delight
Screaming from beneath their
Steel chambers, aching for the rush)

Windows powered down

(Glass submerging into dark recesses
Of plastic and steel
Mechanical excitement zipping)

The breeze blew in

(The flow of air – cool, dewy, and alive –
Drenching the interior in a rush
The world exhaling a sigh of relief)

In those final moments,
The weekend was born.