Living For The Day

The poor live for the day 

Now or today is what matters to them, anyway

As long as they are able to fend for the day 

They are happy to live with fun and play 

They hardly have time to think of future 

As they are lost in daily grind culture 

Working so hard throughout the day 

Tired to their soles they sleep like a log, even in the hay 

Muscles ache, legs weary, hands pain and eyes strained 

But thinking of the morrow', they rest unrestrained 

Back to routine in the morning,

Fresh and in full form 

They apply themselves to the work, as per the norm 

Small pleasures, Small mercies dot their way 

Enough to keep them from falling into the fray 

Simple living, happy times is all they ask for and pray

Living the day as it comes is a blessing to stay.