All the days that come of yore,
No hour to pass with single bore,
I kicked the stones on my path,
The air I breathed made me cough,
All the nights I lone long for walk,
Ere the nights kiss mine art to talk
With stars in shuddered whisper
Can hold not never with this pair
Of blood-boiled hands no ice can stay,
The molten concrete this touch can feel,
No dice to roll lest ball to wheel,
On these silent walks I barely reach,
To give myself Earth for yearly teach,
So when I look back how far I’ve come,
I could not ask more my life to some.

Category:
Life, Poetry, Works
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