Guest post: A poem by my husband. The Mechanic

Greasy hands, dirty nails
Bleeding daily from sharp impale.
Much maligned, a public joke
End of the week, still broke.

Days to weeks, months to years
Nothing but dirt , oil and gears.
Getting older in the back and knees
Trying to keep up, customers to please.

Never saving, no future in mind
Wanting to change, caught in the grind.
Time has passed, a wasted prime
A life of regret, not worth a dime.

By JA

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