Sun in stolen leisure
come warm my face
while we welcome rest
from industrious pace.
Wind is blowing cold
clouds overcast are black
like rusted fallen leaves
workers soon blown back.
Chill breezes blown bitterly.
Busy worker hands benefit community.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
http: //www.poemhunter.com/terence-george-craddock/
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