This Long Road
The hard life, the sweat of the work,
With early start, before the rise of the sun.
The gruffness of mateship,
At most a slap on the back, a grunt
the highest of compliments.
No soft touch of a woman's presence,
Lost the gentleness of a soothing voice.
Rough and ready food, with always much to drink,
fuelling a want to forget.
The deep lines on the faces, showing the roads
That have brought them here.
Silence as the work is done, no need for words,
Louder the voice as the drink flows into the night.
The talk only of sport, of other jobs done,
Never of the wives,
or the children lost.
Grim determination as the work is won over,
With stronger effort, easier to block the thoughts.
The hard faces as the drink is consumed,
The bottle not a vessel to happiness,
Merely the drowning of time
not to be spent in reflection.
No photos on the walls, no reminders of former lives,
None the images of the women they once held,
The women they once loved, and clutched tight.
Desiring only this hardship,
this way to forget,
The delicate touch that once warmed their souls,
That brought smiles to their faces.
Smiles long since lost, fallen along the way.
Evading the memories,
Through the hardness of the work,
And the heaviness of the drink.