Slow and slow I pace young and casual
The sun glaring her glittery face
Glowering Through her skin-peeling visual
Atop my fading sepia carapace
...
Our green days I would cherish
which weaved on green gardens
Where the green plantations would flourish
And the candle of hope lightens
...
The sun's scorching claws descend
Scratching round my barren scalp
Where the tree of laughter once scend
Stretching like the water-loving salp
...
The Giver
Slow and slow I pace young and casual
The sun glaring her glittery face
Glowering Through her skin-peeling visual
Atop my fading sepia carapace
Blue Ocean come scraping down his cheeks
An old man from canaan pale and weak
In his Watering oculus hedge have leaks
Slow and slow the clock of demise tick
Lone staff wedge his weakening slouch
Slow and slow he scratch the barren land
'spare me a drink lest I die' he touch
In victory smiles I clench his shivering hand
Slow and slow I give the jar
Slow and slow I die afar