Content
I would live on a desert island
alone with my thoughts,
a book of poems-
a pen that runs not out,
and paper to write;
I would live like a king
alone in the majesty of words
and not a drop of water
or handful of food would I crave;
though my body pines away
to the dusts of the air
I would live, content.
©GayUganda
Labels: poetry
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