Mornings brought
Ephemeral sanity to him
On his way to work
He walk straight
He walk tall.
when tired the boots
Colour changed to gray
He grew taller every day
From the concrete the boots
Ate daily in its soles.
Smelling the recks of sweat
He dusts his gray face
Showing his thin red lips.
Clasping the worth
Of his day's work
In the fist of left hand
He wore a tattered black shirt
Unlinked at the cuffs.
He walked into a tavern
Like a King.
He worked hard
He drinks hard
He walks home
On the back of his feet
Dying instalmentally.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem