In the quiet hum of morning light,
The clock begins its steady race,
Hands move in rhythm, day to night,
In every tick, we find our place.

Through whispered dreams and waking sighs,
We chase the sun with tireless feet,
The dance of work beneath the skies,
In every task, our hearts repeat.

Between the lines of duty’s call,
A tapestry of life is spun,
In toil, we rise, we sometimes fall,
Yet every day, a new begun.

In shadows long and moments brief,
We weave our stories, threads of gold,
In work, we find both joy and grief,
A silent symphony, untold.