Give me a scythe
but make it sharp;
so I can reap what’s been sown,
so I can gather what’s been grown.
All lying in the sun,
drying in the sun,
dying in the sun.
My hands will blister
the hardest of harvests.
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© Christopher Farley, Chris Farley, 2012-2020. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Farley with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All guest content remains the property of the appropriate author – any reproduction is strictly prohibited without their prior written approval.