Miles apart in front of each other.

The once warm glow fades from the room,
Traces of daylight leave in the shadow of the workers.

The manicured talons grip onto the phone,
A glance at the clock beckons her home.

She stands up to leave the office floor,
As a foreign being enters through the door.

The silk skirt drifts elegantly on a breeze,
The nimble fingers smooth her chemise.

Across the office a dance begins,
The stooped woman adjusts her rusting hair pins.

The apron she wears tells a story of laboring hard,
Her hands are dry and roughly scarred.

The bristles of the brush scratch the ground,
Absorbed in her work, she is slowly drowned.

Awoken from her dreams by the feeling of a stare,
The lady gazing with eagle eyes plays with her hair.

The cleaner gazes on in respect as the queen wants to depart,
Remembering her youth, aspiring wishes fill her heart.

As their eyes meet for a second, a lifetime seems to pass,
As each see each others souls through a spyglass.

Each pitying the other, but happy with what they have,
Their worlds are different, traveling a diverse path.

They go their separate ways as if they have not met,
Traces of daylight leave in the shadow of the workers.