She worked the counter
at the local diner.
He worked in the caves.
He was a miner.
They both left for work
early every day.
Returned in the evening
with not too much to say.
Too tired to talk
They ate quietly.
They accepted their fate
and the monotony.
She was used to the siren
that sounded the alarm.
Workers in the mine
had come to some harm.
She would leave her job
and run to the site,
saying the words
that she prayed every night.
'Please God have mercy
on my man.
Bring him out alive
if you can.'
And when she saw him
she held him and cried,
happy he was safe,
sad that others died.
They went back home
with not too much to say.
For tomorrow would come
and they needed the pay.
So back to the mine
and the diner they went.
It was their way of living.
They had to pay rent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you are a natural story teller, Edwina. keep telling, goldy~~