Don't waste pity on me,
I can't use it anyway.
I am stone, why can't you see,
Save it for someone made of clay.
Give it to some wondering soul,
Who needs it more than I.
Somebody lost in bittter cold,
Someone with a cloudy sky.
10/15/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem