A Psalm to the L-rd
Weary are my eyes and downtrodden is my soul
Day after day I toil to bring home daily bread
Sit in gnarled posture, slaving away on me computer
A thirst for money, for financial security.
For affording a comfortable life.
Nevertheless my heart aches
For the time when I can come home
Rest my weary behind on me carpet
And do puzzles with my daughter.
Her glistening brown eyes,
Like the sparkling sunlit ocean
A connection so deep
Ever so warming my heart.