I wander out, every now and then
Gathering and picking whatever I can find
I return every night and confine myself to my den
Making sure that I don’t go blind
The few things I find, I cherish and keep
Things I live for, and sometimes weep
In these I indulge in day after day
Ending the night in a similar way
What I long for, I might never keep
But thought I give, in my brain it seeps
Cover it up, with ash and dust
Protecting it from the wind, even a gust.
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