Work

This is a poem of the every day grind.

We understand minimal of work when young,
time goes by feeling unsung.

We go through school to prepare us for work,
While many years later wishing still be with parents
That your income determined by grades long lost
Now we suffer for unexplained tests that mattered
Dreaming of what could have been now shattered

Doctor, lawyer, ditch digger, teacher, unprepared for work.
We seek happiness and hope there is more,
Marriage, kids, age, and end, we look back at times with
clouded eyes of youth.

Older and seasoned or so they tell us
To train new generations to do what we do
Life, half empty a glass or half full
That our life was poured out to soon the ordeal.

We understand minimal of life when old
Experienced and gone Memories lost stories untold.