The only thing about Sunday evening
that sticks in the mind is my Pa's admonition
that no matter the consequences of hanging
out with a crowd that carouses until dawn
is get up and go to work Monday morning!
I think about that now and then as I read
of unemployed workers whose jobs
have left our shores and immigrants
who do the jobs we decline to do
Layabouts who flop on couches chugging
six-packs watching athletes in their prime
perform no matter what their efforts cost
in pain and eventual disability - it's ironic
that in the end both share a like fate!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Insightful and philosophical. A very good write, Mike. Well done, thanks Richard