At the end of another
Day on the picket line,
Shouting herself hoarse,
Enduring taunts from
Constricted, angry faces,
Walking miles so that
Others might not have to
Do the same, toiling on
Behalf of the less fortunate
Who have no voice,
She puts her coat in the closet,
Throws on some comfortable
Clothes and lies down
On the couch, quickly
Dozing off to dream
Of fewer battles.
