Why About Love? I (July.2015)

With there rise of every trying sun
and the fall of every lulling moon
he, like a farmer desperately yanking weeds
under the scorching sun, 
tirelessly punched away at numbers
under the flickering beam of his fluorescent lamp.
He didn’t have to hurl bales of hay over great lengths
But I could see, beneath the red sea
his pupils treaded in,
the fatigue filled bags under his eyes
must have weighed more than the table
he worked so tirelessly to put food on.

And once a month, after plowing
his way through the bureaucratic field of his first job, 
he’d tilt his head to the mountains
of bills stacked on the kitchen counter,
and prepare to see his monetary livestock slaughtered
before his very eyes.

But as he did with there rise of every trying sun
and the fall of every lulling moon,
he’d then tilt his head down
into the glowing eyes and gleaming smile
of his newly born daughter—
as she effused enough joy
power the entire city of New York—
slung his burden over his shoulder,
and continued plow
with more vigor than he had the previous day