Time wasters in Red – poem

I look around there’s little sound,

Motors stand still a-chugging,

Lights are at red, enough be said,

It’s nothing short of a mugging,

Road works planted everywhere,

Gridlock is impending,

Just because of council planning

On roads that now need mending,

Started little bits everywhere,

No sign of workmen anywhere,

Just those lights of fiery red,

Staring at you straight ahead,

Then it changes, green for go,

You speed away like Formula One,

But as you reach this beacon of release,

It goes back once again, to red my son,

You’re all wound up, late for work,

So you wait, for what seems an age,

And as for you planners I hope you feel proud,

I’m feeling my first signs of real road rage!

Brian Damms

Louth