The Day’s Work
Poetry
Published in
Mar 29, 2024
The body
is aching
Weak,
from the day’s work.
Creaking bones,
painful joints.
Slowing steps,
tired lungs.
In our beds,
we must
find comfort
For when
tomorrow comes,
whether
we want to
or not
We must
get up,
and keep
getting up
till we don’t
have to dream
anymore.
©️ Fọlábòmí Àmọ̀ó 2024
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