Honesty Poem by Paul Warren

The smell of sweat and the taste of labour
Once were things that took the workmen's favour
And standing in a crowd of men
Became something as a son I held grand

For honest labour was the call
And to be part of it meant all
But now we work out of the sun
And honest labour is rarely done

For now we seek the flowered smell
Of deodorant as a vital one to dwell
And the smell and feel of honesty
Now is harder to breath in or be.

© Paul Warren Poetry