(Artwork credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/caseyflorig/)
The office of the president
Is one job no one should crave
If your skin’s too thin, or heart too broad,
Or your mortal soul you’d like to save.
You run a gauntlet festooned
With big doubts, road blocks, and fear,
Requiring grit and fortitude,
Yet not the need for affirming cheer.
Your cabinet might thwart you,
Congress lives to make things tough.
For even when you bull’s eye the green,
Spin can leave you playing in the rough.
Yes, president’s a thankless job
No matter if you’re red or blue.
Your only hope is that history
Looks back with a gentler, kinder view.
