When the evening came
They were few
Though they'd been a lot in the morning
That morn was already old
When the food came to its end
And some of them
Started weeping and moaning
Another one was starting wondering
What else the evening it could be bringing.
Tired of their life in the east
They took the road
Heading for the west
In the morning they'd been a lot
But when the evening came
Then the number it meant less
As tired as their legs
So as broken were their dress.
In the middle of the journey
They met a man
His clothes were filthy
And he got an only hand
He did tell them
About the danger of the road
'Times I've walked it down,
You can tell they are a lot'
He pointed with his only hand
What was waiting for them at the end
'Young people, don't you mind your thoughts
This road it must be condemned'
But they didn't hear the advertisement
Though to them
It was sent.
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Comments about this poem (Deadly Road by Albert Martin )
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