The desiccated summer’s soil so hot,
On the beds of barren river sun ablaze,
Weathered feet fitted with worn out sandals,
The breeze carries the dust to deposit on the head,
...
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As I read each line, I can picture it in my mind. Much suffering, few moments of happiness. But we continue the journey, always moving forward, hoping for better. Good poem, thank you.
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As I read each line, I can picture it in my mind. Much suffering, few moments of happiness. But we continue the journey, always moving forward, hoping for better. Good poem, thank you.