Like Stone the ears
to the Words that cry

--Mixing of feet & gawking.

Like Dust the years
sit tight, deny

I who am sitting
so fresh, by their road,

seeing them sweating
to carry their Load

I offer to take it
from them & to free
them--      

    --But they
just smile on me:

In th'garden
is The Grave

by th'road
patient & wry

( You'll never have
what you never gave! )

It was no lie.