In the dark and cold night of winter,

The man of the family has to keep going,

He may be tired, hungry, but he cannot quit,

For around him his loved ones are revolving.


Life is definitely a lot tougher for the working man,

He has to keep working from dawn to dusk,

He may possess hidden talents, skills and elan,

But luck simply did not favour his plan.


So, even a cold wintry night or a hot summer day,

Cannot make him shirk his work away,

He has a wife, sons and loving daughters too,

For them he has to live as hard as he can.


His body, mind and heart might be craving sleep,

His exhausted soul too might be seeking an extra hour,

Of complete and undisturbed relaxation,

But fate has left only work as his option.


Which man or woman, be they young or older,

Might not be desiring some extra comfort,

But the big working world  is not willing to care,

And provide such workers with recreation.


Without such people no one would have lived,

Luxuriously and spent their time in merriment,

The businessmen and the industrialist boss,

Would have, without such workers, only faced loss.


Let the lucky ones who are blessed by good fortune,

Also think of giving some joy to the workers faction,

For it is because of their hard work each night and day,

The world would not have been as it is today.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composing a poem for the hard working men and women whom we call the labourers and toilers was always a thought that occupied my poetic instinct. Today, this 15th days of December,2016, has made me do it...write for them and about them. It is a reality based practical poem. Will every reader be able to enjoy it? Anyone out there?

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