This poem is dedicated to my father.

 

He Keeps Going

He trucks through muddy terrain

In worn out and creased black boots

Working hard to earn green loot

To put hot food on the table

For fresh smiles on glowing faces

 

In the name of his loved ones

He hits the pavement

His shoulder aches with dull pain

But he’ll never say it

As long as he can pay rent

 

He keeps going…

No matter the time

He rolls out of bed

When the alarm chimes

 

Love always, Esha <3