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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Biographical >> ID #158067 |
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Working is a dreary task
That prowls throughout my day. In the sun I'd rather bask And spend my hours in play. Yet the work of daily life Demands I do my part And I must face the daily strife While I starve my hungry heart. And still my poet's soul Longs for distant hills. Nature's wealth to keep me whole. My job to pay my bills. 5/14/01
© Copyright 2001 Bandit's Mama (UN: sandybrace at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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