Monday, July 22, 2013

For Labors Unheralded

Heaven bless the working man,
Or woman, as the case may be,
For labors that have built a nation,
Made it strong,
Kept it free.
Day by day endures the trek,
Spaghettied byways
Ceaseless days of repetition,
Watching with frustration growing.
Even while complaints may linger
As the endless hours drone,
Though his ire may peak aplenty,
He will never take it home.
Home to where his world makes sense,
A different kind of recompense,
Where labors wear a sweeter flavor
Sheltered by a picket fence.
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