In the quiet hum of dawn’s embrace,
Hands awaken to the rhythm’s call,
Crafting dreams in the silent grace,
As shadows dance upon the wall.

The clock whispers secrets old and new,
Each tick a tale of sweat and strive,
In every task, a world to hew,
In every breath, a spark alive.

Beneath the sky, where hopes entwine,
The heart beats to the pulse of toil,
In fields of green or mines that shine,
We weave our stories in the soil.

As evening casts its gentle light,
The day’s endeavor finds its rest,
In dreams we wander, taking flight,
Renewed by labor, truly blessed.