Summers to my elder were tough

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Summers to my elder were tough
and put his clothes on in the sweltering heat,
then with aching muscles that throbbed
from pallet runs daily the job was made
compressors roared. His unknown labor.

I’d wake and hear the compressors, cracking.
when the heat blazed, I’d help,
and hurriedly I would dress and rush to the shop,
hoping to learn something new,

Watching with cavernous eyes,
who cared not about the fever
and let me take control of a tool.
How did I do, how did I do
of hard work and tough labor?





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