I've longed for plains;
along winter storms,
I've lost most games;
between beating norms,
I've missed no names;
before missing bores,
I've bread no gain;
after losing more.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry is a sense-blossoming flower that never wilts.
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#wit
I've longed for plains;
along winter storms,
I've lost most games;
between beating norms,
I've missed no names;
before missing bores,
I've bread no gain;
after losing more.