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 ❤
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