Friday, 19 August 2011


Nothing prepares you for the day
when you are called down
to hear your fate

A letter awaits
the managers are frown
bad news to give you
HR are around

Your time is up
after so many years
no time for sentiments
or even a few tears

You are out of the building
before you can breath
farewell to the city
what awaits me?

(I wrote this poem soon after I was made redundant in 2005, having worked in the City of London)

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