ME AND MY VERSE

Sometimes my verse moves as light breeze
Like thin strips of wind after a sudden storm
That turned the landscape into ruin

Sometimes my verse is a young man
His carefree singing while walking on
Who sees some thing at the side of the road – but 
                                                 dares not pick it up

And me? I am dry as the leaves in late autumn
Thrown by the wind through the older tracks
But now does not know – if happy or sad.

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