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Let my life be merry again,
The way it used to be,
This is my dream;

I am a farmer, bonded to toils of the soil.
I am a worker sold to the labour of my hands.
I am a slave to servitude , servant to you all.
I am a poor man, humble, hungry,& mean—
Hungry yet today again,
despite my dream.

Beaten to the ground,I still hold onto my dream
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest man bartered through the years.

BUT–

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance to the sweet tunes, playing in my mind
Till the heat of the day is done,
Then rest at cool evening,
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me—
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick hot day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
Beneath a tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming on tenderly
Black like me.
That is my dream.

I will hold on fast to my dreams,
For if my dreams die,
My life will be a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.

I will hold on fast to my dreams,
For when dreams go,
Life is a barren field,
Battered to the ground,
By the hot noon sun of the day.

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®

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