Tuckered Troubles

On the days work takes its namesake,

darkness falls smoothly to my feet.

I play hopscotch with the shadows,

sashay past the demise of dormant dreams,

and bow to the katydids applauding hours

of sleepless street machines.

To soothe the sours of sunlight yearning,

I massage the wrinkles

from the middle of my spine,

while ironing tuckered troubles

from the corner of my smile.

But the sun will rise.

And so will I.