The great smell of roasted Arabica beans,

the joyous sound of Haydn on the radio,

the grey-green overcoat slung on the rack,

boots dusted down with snow,

shipping office morning;

early yawning,tired greetings,

pages sifted sorted scheduled deliveries,

traffic reports orders from Head Office,

small talk,

family matters,

wallet-sized photographs,

his of Hannah and Gregor

both in Year5 doing well;

an absence of hurrying scurrying down

below in the yards,old hands talking

about the rail no longer punctual;

Daylight passes;

shifts change over

as the train rumbles in,

his thoughts now only of home

and comfort and what presents

to get for Hannah and Gregor;

trudging past big crates

lowered onto the platform,

out of the corner of his eye

he reads their embossed legend,

” Zyklon B “.