Created
2025-02-24 12:37:18.769 -0600
Observation
Tired is the loyal man, yet still he stands,
Weathered hands shaped by duty’s demands.
The sun may set, the moon may rise,
But rest evades his weary eyes.
Promises made, too heavy to break,
Shoulders bent from the weight they take.
Others sleep, yet he toils on,
Bound to a cause long since gone.
Not for glory, not for praise,
But for the love of steadfast ways.
Tired is he, yet he won’t run
For the loyal man's job is never done.
