If the clock ever struck 5

 If the clock ever struck 5 ,

If the clock ever struck 5,

I promise I would go home,

The bus leaves at 6, but I promise I will go home,

It’s a weary, long day and looking out of the window is my only solace,

The little birds twittering around, squirrels running around,

Oh but when the clock strikes one, 

I can take an oath on the holy lord, then the clock doesn’t move,

Between one to four, the world comes to a standstill,

All you can hear slow humming of machines, the soft tapping sounds of keyboard,

And a few day dreamers like me staring out of the window,

There are many like me, I do feel that,

We are a hidden tribe, who only want to escape work when the clock strikes 5,

And its not that I dread work, I love work,

It pays for my luxuries,

But the constant chatting, calling, sounds, brings no peace to my little mind.

A little nap should be allowed at work, I wonder why it is frowned upon,

It is uncomfortable to sleep at a desk, while your colleagues are looming around,

I am in my sweet little world, sometimes check on the phone,

Of which I am slave,

But have you seen the soft evening light gently shining on the trees,

The cubicle is almost my second home, I feel at home at my desk,

The calendar, post it notes and the potted plant are my friends,

There are feathers attached, and dreams written on the desk board,

I wonder if I have enough time to fulfil it all,

But now the clock has almost struck 5,

And I promise you I have already escaped to home.