had you the strength
of yesterday,
with more to gain, and
less to pay,
you'd walk among
the stalks of brown,
and gold, a sky turned
upside-down
the wheels beneath, you'd
no more need:
the struggling breath would
come with ease,
and though there be
none there to see,
you would at last,
at last,
be free
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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