Working Mama’s Prayer

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.

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