Best Labourer Poems

Calloused canvas, etched with sun and rain,
A map of toil, where muscles speak their pain.
No crown adorns it, nor scepter's gilded shine,
But in its grip, a legacy entwines.

Not pharaohs' monuments, nor empires vast,
But fields that nourish, homes that rise at last.
Bricks laid true, with sweat...

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