The Mill |
| by Lloyd Klumpp |
Day after day we grind the grind,
Working away, body and mind,
Goals to reach, things to prove,
A need for bread and a roof
Week after week we grind away.
Making a living? No, working for pay!
Mouths to feed, feet to shoe
Not time enough to think of you.
Month after month the grind goes on.
Becoming mindless, feeling numb.
One more passes, then another.
Sometimes ask why we bother.
Year after year - grind, grind, grind.
Our souls destroyed, our hearts unkind.
The roof is ours. We have our bread.
Such a shame our spirits dead.
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(c) 1999 Lloyd Klumpp Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.
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