To me they seem like flesh filled straws,
aching with the suffering of toil.
They bruise and bleed, feel sore these paws
but will be ever faithful to the soil.
How wondrous that they never complain
no matter how much I slave them;
they thirst in heat, get drenched in rain
and keep moving on again, my stems.
Like branches they support and shelter,
from miseries of my melancholy.
They obey and see me their mentor,
I finally see their worth for me.
Although there have been times when I,
Have, misused these weary limbs,
today I know they effortlessly replace
luxury cars and shiny rims.
You see how they reflect the me
who deep inside nobody else can be,
ashamed am I and ever so ignorant,
to realise that they too are God sent.