Traveling Hope

October 8, 2008
By
Clouds on the sea,
a cold and broken hallelujah.
This moist day,
upon a field of memories.

Tiny pink fingers,
leathered hands etched in wrinkles.
This morose day,
upon a field of life.

Styrophome coffee cups,
microwaved breakfast burritos.
This monotonous hospitle trip,
upon a field of battle.

Plastic tubes,
watery eyes and choked breath.
This silent struggle,
upon a field of sickness.

Exhaustion and vomiting,
iron strength.
This ending marathon,
upon a field of hope.





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