Shenzhen Stuff

A voice from above

A place where he never knows

Toiling through a long spell

In which he experienced a lot of hardship

His weathered, frail hands

Deep furrows etched on the forehead

Emaciated, jelly legs failing to rise

Wobbly steps attesting to his infirmity

The worn-out, withered look of his soul

Sapped by a string of health issues

Making him a walking skeleton

A dull hoary crown

Is the only precious award that he obtains

Though being not one of the Great of this world

I am utterly proud of his lifetime sacrifice for my well-being

Before the ticking of his clock ends

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Comment by 小麦Tracy on October 27, 2010 at 1:43pm
Hi, did you receive my PM last time?
Comment by 9 on October 27, 2010 at 1:01pm
well done, my wonderful poet!

Keep posting your poem,please!

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