The sun had died down
but he remained.
Smoke filled his lungs,
his breathing was strained.

December had come,
with the wind, both menacing and cold
but he stood like an oak,
unwilling to fold.

His muscles moved like an overworked machine,
his mind was drifting
to the past;
his wife's warm welcome; his children's soft singing.

He continued his endeavour
till the early morn,
then returned home,
to be met with scorn.

Her face was red and her dress was stained.
He looked at her, her words filled his head,
''You don't appreciate what I do, not a word of thanks.''
He did, but he nodded and left them unsaid.

It was his turn to care for the kids,
get them dressed and ready for school.
He fell asleep this time,
his wife thought him a fool.

He filled the fridge, paid the bills.
He had endured,
to see their smiling faces
and their good health assured.

He didn't mind and he never complained
that no words of praise ever passed his ears,
they were his drive,
and his sole purpose was to ease their worries and fears.