And endless litany of work demands
That’s followed by the thrill of voicing song
With cherished friends and those with gifted hands,
Then followed by new music in a throng,

Supplanted then by comprehensive mope,
Upon deliverance of lousy news
About a thing for which I’d dare to hope,
Yet gentle hugs frustrations can defuse.

Discouraged, sad, and tired though I may be,
My last work day is scheduled for tomorrow
Before few precious days of liberty-
To think on that will soften any sorrow.

Tomorrow, I shall sacred songs employ.
Though glad of comfort, I hold hope for joy.