We never forget the bygone barefooted happy journeys on the fine grass.
As same as the painful marathons along the gravel roads.
Now it's very hard to bear up the terrible winter breeze peeps through your holey boots
And the darned woolen socks won't resists.
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Winter can sometimes be a metaphor for hardship.But the brave poet soldiers on. Excellent write, Nimal. Warmest regards, Sandra
Oh would that your thunderstorm would blow away the war and your rain of peace would pour down on the people of Gaza and allow them to return to their houses and keep their children warm. Your barefoot metaphor is very poignant. As usual, your poem delves deep. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥