The Undying Hope

Those runs along the dusty corridors,
through the rattles of the paddles and
wheels of the old bicycle, and
drops of sweat on that wrinkled face,
pale dusty cloth stitched more than seven times,
drying, darkening eyes
but, thoughtless feable smiles.

How could he smile with that belly
that shrank due to hunger?
How could he smile when those eyes
rarely saw a comfy slumber?
What drove him across when
His youth had tanned to the age of darkness;
darkness finely blending with shapely wrinkles?

Fuel that ignited that timid smile
and strengthened the feet to paddle along,
The undying hope in a feable silhoutte
leads him on his cycle's route,
cycling through the hits of hunger
paddling across the proverty's river.

His mighty will,
zeal to live,
majestic hope,
and ceaseless treading on the troubles...

That make him smile; smile soulfully!

- Cron