A steady job is a thing to be treasured,

Especially if it’s secure.

And so my gratitude cannot be measured;

My income is tiny, but sure.

For five days of work I get two more of leisure,

A life that’s adult and mature.

By Friday the boredom has brought me near seizure,

And Monday’s too much to endure!

So most of my weekdays I go out for lunch

And sip at a liquid cure,

And pray for strength to face five days of crunch

For two days of paradise pure.

Not as other women are

Is she that to my soul is dear.

Her glories stream from heavens far

Beneath the silver evening star,

And yet her soul is ever near.

She touches me with kindnesses

Most leave undone, and oft despise.

She overlooks my blindnesses

And heals my wounds with soft caresses

And loving gaze from shining eyes.

Her spirit sings, her heart is light

And lifts my mood so sad disposed.

Nor e’er again shall fail the light

That hid from me this wondrous sight;

That kept this heart so cold and closed.

O, would that I returned in part

These gifts she brings. But tender deed

And meager offerings – my art,

My simple rhymes must now impart

Some measure of my love and need.