The Roamer's Mayor
Still as stone
And cold as I
As far as home
And as alive
White walls, bed
Scream to be free
You paint them red
As red as me
Did I find you here
Or was I told?
Finds are just as fair
When there's concrete in the gold
Striking riches
Or the dirt and the mold
But a heart is a heart
No matter how cold
poem by L'Angley S Delmonte
Added by Poetry Lover
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