Lane Of Life

 In the night dark,

Under the candle's spark,

Someone is sitting,

In a miniature room of his own fitting.

In the day bright,

Under the sun's light,

Someone is working,

In a tiring garage huffing and jerking.

In the evening rainy,

Under the moon light stainy.

Someone is sitting at rest ,

On a cocoon chair and hands on his chest.

In the night dark,

Beside the nightingale's lark.

Someone is sleeping,

In a coffin, while others are weeping

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