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.
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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Not long ago I was leasing the blinkered life, nose to the grindstone. It is easy to lose sight of what's important in life.
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Spoken like someone who's found there way out for the daily grind. Great job! Wishing you the best in life, Thank you for sharing your soul. Be well Rosemarie - Rosemarie |
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This poem reflects the sad truth of the majority of the lives of everyone I know. - Sheri |
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Clearcut, right to the point and so very true. Thanks for the poem. - Sharon |
