Forward to the Rear

Sometimes, no matter how hard the effort,
In spite of every best intention,
I only seem to be moving backward
Into a state of futility.
Just can’t seem to catch a break,
Smitten with the curse of Job
Whose patience here was challenged
More than humans need to be.
Progress is a fragile flower
Sore in need of tender care.
Fertilized with vigilance,
Nourished by a single tear.
Dogged by persistence,
Determined to endure.
I’ll carry you on weary legs
Forward to the rear.

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Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dennis-S-Martin/e/B004SXY4LG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1394055582&sr=1-2-ent