Do I need to implore
The leaves, that
Falls down the trees
Moments drudge
Thy hoary face
As I labor my life
Heaving a sigh
I wearily tread
Lost vision mine
One day more, I hold;
To bear thy pound of pulp
Inside my worn-out womb
Till when
In falling down,
Life will spread its branches
I implore the muck
The knoll of earthy mound
Wet and dry
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