BB Grey–musings

The day stretched long, yet held its grace,
I toiled in fields, dirt beneath my nails a trace.
My back groaned low, lifting burdens high,
A job or two I sought beneath the sky.

A younger me, with frustration rife,
Spoke of bills, of girls, of a carless life.
Gas too dear, the reason he was late,
I heard his woe, his tangled fate.
I nodded soft, said I understood,
Wished I could banish pain for good.

But no, it lingers—not for all the same,
Youth expects the world to bend, a game.
When it resists, despair creeps near,
The air turns sour, a lesser self to fear.
Age brings patience, a slower stride,
You let the storm pass gentle by your side.

The struggle fades, a distant sight,
Not so fierce as when it walked in might.
Yet youth can’t see ‘til years unfold,
So I whispered, “Tomorrow’s gold—
A day of promise, brighter than this morn.”
He smiled faint, his spirit reborn.

Back to work, the tease of friends a balm,
A family found amid the calm.
At lunch, the waitress shared her load—
A cat unwell, a mother’s home bestowed,
A lover drunk, a tip withheld,
“What the heck,” she grinned, unquelled.

I lent an ear, a friend for just a beat,
Left more than coin to make ends meet.
“Tomorrow’s better,” I said with cheer,
A smile to lift what lingered near.

Now home, the night grows still,
No feast tonight—just whiskey’s will.
One glass, no more, for hope I sow,
Tomorrow’s light, I trust to grow.

Today I spoke, I taught, I grinned,
Showed how to fish, not just to win.
Praised a smile, returned my own,
If tomorrow shines, how I’ve grown—
For this good day, a quiet win,
Was soil and soul, and grace within.

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A Note to the Reader
As a business owner, builder, carpenter, and friend, my days weave me into the lives of countless souls. With my children grown and gone, and a wife no longer by my side, I find myself still drawn to the rhythm of connection—speaking, encouraging, and teaching those who’ll lend an ear. In this exchange, I heal as much as I help, lifting myself as I lift others. I never imagined this would be my path, but today feels far from half bad, and tomorrow always glimmers with hope and promise. That’s what propels me forward—smiling, talking, listening to so many who carry stories aching to be heard. Perhaps this is my greater calling now: to listen deeply, to offer humble encouragement, to share what life has etched into me—all with a smile. This poem is born from that quiet purpose, a reflection of a day’s labor and the grace found in its give-and-take.

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