he rises every day in the hours of deepest
darkness without complaint and filled
with the satisfaction that duty calls

coffee is prepared the night before
a cup stands by as silent guard
clothes are arranged in proper order

morning’s puzzle is solved without variation

he is dressed while you are dreaming
and at work before the sun

sweat pouring from his brow
for no one else to see

from one day
to the next





In honor of National Poetry Month, this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.


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