When the Job’s Done (A Poem)

And when it’s over,
I’ll sleep.
I’ll sleep
the sleep of
the fighter
the maker,
and I’ll take my rest
with a side of
thank you very much.
For such a hard week,
it’s gone fast,
almost done.
Ranking it from ten to one,
I’d say –
But I’m still here,
and soon enough,
the work goes on.

6 thoughts on “When the Job’s Done (A Poem)

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