Another housecleaning poem.
The boss’s pen
struts across the page
It writes the words that count.
Those strong and solid sentences.
Those lists of tasks and strategies
crafted in the conversations of a business nature
that speed across the desk back and forth
All of them are
recorded and ordered by
the boss’s pen
plucked at random from the supply room shelf.
no one gets discovered any more?
Surely it will be your turn