I Am Thought To Be Weak

 I am sitting all alone, just thinking in my head..

Just a few hours more and I can go to bed.

The sun is on the west and the sky is getting dark...

And I cannot wait to snuggle, as the raindrops park.

All through the day, I answer every call...

With haste and with muscle, till my bones say I'll fall.

I store up all the baskets, though heavy like a lead..

Yet do not get a smile or bread to be fed.

Woe unto me, I say in my heart..

With eyes full of misery, as I struggle with each cart.

At times in my knowledge, I am fed to the wolves...

But night beckons slowly and I am called like the bulls.

Perhaps in this life, I am thought to be weak..

For in my humility, my strength they d

o not seek.

So I wait for the close, of the door to the day..

With longing and with pleasure, to go home and to lay.