The sky is my shelter,
And the ground is my bed.
Ragged clothes adorn me,
Though warmth, it does not give.
A slice of yesterday’s bread,
Grateful, I will be to eat.
A second glance you will not give me,
For what describes me, is not beauty.
Ah tell me, what should I do?
When love comes, unexpectedly.
You, I grow to dearly love,
Yet I, shall never reach you.
For I, the lowly, cannot love,
You, The High, the prince of this land.
14th Dec 2010 10:41pm
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