Each one, in his or her own bed, Lies awake and wonders. Staring into the silent darkness Feeling abandoned, and alone. This one, laid off from work, Lacking immigration papers. He wonders how to feed the family, As the monthly bills keep coming. Was it so bad, that long ago, He, the wired border crossed, In stealthy cover of darkness, With hungry wife and child? For all these years, for night shifts, He ran the company presses. But the new boss, he lets him go, No papers, and the press stands... Sign in to see full entry.