The farmer is used to waking
Before the sun can rise
He rips himself away from bed,
He pushes exhaustion aside.
The farmer eats his breakfast
Of coffee and yesterday's bread;
Trying to forget his empty stomach
To the fields, he does tread.
The farmer bows his head
To tend the plants below.
Though his back becomes as dark as night
He continues to work the plow.
The farmer almost stops
This labor in the sun,
But he remembers the children he left at home
And so he carries on.
The farmer returns late
To a dinner of rice and eggs.
He lays down and shuts his eyes real tight
Worrying about the next day.
Meanwhile, a girl in the city
Wrinkles her nose in disgust;
She hates the vegetables on her plate,
Throwing them away like dust.
~~~~~~~~
A tribute to all our hardworking farmers out there. Thank you. For everything.