The trek
Wait,O evening
I love the morning more than the afternoon
Perhaps the afternoon more than the evening
But scare to death when come near the evening
But cannot help facing it
A dictate of nature.
Just like in the proverbial tale
Of the cock of our fathers
This cock starts its morning with
Four legs,allowing for a passage of time
Jumps to two legs,in afternoon
And again in the course of time
Jumps to three legs,in evening.
Where the third leg is a wooden stick
That supports the man from falling over
For tibia and fibula have lost their strengths
Patella is nearly unscrewed
But man must walk around his neighbourhood
In pains he does this
Why come,O evening?
 
 
 
 
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