WORKING DAYS

 

Work each day, for family
Each minute is like a prayer
An offering to the God on high
who watches every growing leaf
In this green planet

 

 

But after each working day
I always come home,
Open my door, And find nothing

but an empty room
Aching heart feels so sad...
With the eyes swelling with tears...

 

Then my phone rings!!!!!

 

a poem by Susan (aka Rain )