Tired Poem by Pieter van Wyk

His hands are hard for all the work he has done
The time he spent and wasted all for none
Hours passed, but he worked on
He asked himself: "Will they notice when I'm gone? "

His feet are sore for the path he walked was long
He grew weary of his traveling song
For his path was hard and rough
This was the path that made him tough

His body was tired for the load he carried
It was his burden, it was never buried
He shared it with no one - he walked alone
That's why his heart was made of stone

His eyes were swollen for the tears he shed
The loss he had was no soft bed
Emotions run through his very core
Getting worse, uglier than before

So, he closed his eyes
He said his final goodbyes
For now he'll rest
So that tomorrow he'll be at his best

© Pieter J. van Wyk