A Poem – We

The individual is gone-
A distinct adventure-
Watch – another cubicle erected

What’s wrong with dust?
First sunrise to show the rest-
Weathered, exhausted, satisfied-

Do we need to consult on words-
Patch the warriors mouths with more-
But then, they never were

What’s wrong with the hoe and wishing for rain?
The seeds show strength when growth continues-
Can we go back

It’s gray – We can see our breath
We are ahead of the morning

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