In the stillness of the Oval Room,Where shadows dance at dusk,Lies a burden, heavy yet unseen,Upon shoulders broad and just.
With eyes that pierce the veil of night,He dreams of brighter morns,Binding wounds with threads of hope,In a nation torn and worn.
Across the fields of strife he walks,Hands steady at the helm,Guiding through the storm’s dark wrath,A ship, a people’s realm.
He whispers prayers to stars above,For strength to light the way,For courage in the darkest hour,As dawn awaits the day.