A Poem A Day
2005 / 06 / 26 - The Vine - Poem by A Poem A Day
The sun is shining in front of his face
Hurting him, almost making him go blind,
And stealing the last breathing space
That he thought he would eventually find.
He's surrounded by thousands of grape leaves
Which he has to cut, so the fruits could grow
But he wishes they'd be stolen by some thieves
Because at this exhausting job, he's no pro.
Now it's noon, he just heard the church bell
But all he feels is pain, through his spine
From neck to butt, it hurts and burns like hell
And he hasn't even finished half of the damn vine!
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