A Poem By Erica Miller

With calloused hands a dirty face
He lives his life with no disgrace
Doing this job he's one who care's
His job does not require grace

Do what he does few people dare
Not many want to journey there
He does his job he works all night
To some this job is quite a scare

He travels down where there's no light
When morning comes he regain's sight
He does his job he's no whiner
To breathe fresh air it feels so rite

To some people there's much finer
But this man he's one who's kinder
Hear me god here's a reminder
My father is a coal miner.

© -Erica Miller
Used With Permission Of Author
All Rights Reserved

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