Saying goes, “Many hands make for light work,”
Alone toil I, enduring fleabites.
What tasks must not wait and which can I shirk?
Pray at dark tunnel’s end we two reunite.
Flew to paradise while I hold the bag,
Frustration mounts as each second does pass.
Train tracks keep bogging down in endless slag,
Need to overcome difficult impasse.
Hours of frustration lie between us now,
Tribulation’s end our love we’ll reavow.