What We Are Working For

It is the dead of morning when I kiss you and leave for work. It is not yet light out. You can barely make two words, but that's alright, because I know you need your sleep for your job. I am up the same time as it decides to rain. I am driving when few cars are on the road. Some of man's machines run at this time, at this ungodly hour. Caffeine, man's packet of fuel, is his only companion at this time of day. If he were without it, he would not know how to fight sleep. I think of how much I can't wait to see you every night. The silver locket with your picture on my key faub, is a constant reminder to me of what I am working for. Having you to come home to, you having me to come home to, with dinner all fixed on the table of canned vegetables and pasta from a box, is Providence looking over us, giving our hearts a feeling of plenty. Some may say we don't have nearly enough to be content, but we know the truth. Renting an apartment together and being now married can never compare with the deceitfulness of power and riches and what they are said to be