A Painter's Last Day

Smelling the chemicals in the paint,

splattering the gray on the endless halls;

he stops and thinks...

Blue jeans, and gray spots.

He wonder is this something he enjoys, or a job his education can buy.

Applying the gray and whistling a tune.

Time goes by slow, he stops;

and wipes off his sweat.

Lowers his brush in relief, takes a deep breath, then realizes that this is his last day.

He looks at the brush for the last time and walks away.