Tired All by Samuel Tan
Nine boys, tired all, run
Boots crunching as they fly
Toasted, one said, for he saw
Monstrous, gleaming eyes
Seven girls, sages all, walk
In the gleam of snow-fall land
Happy all, run, fantastic
Smiling, this day will end
Five men, dying all, lie
In the pool of frost-cold blood
Belated long, their death tonight
They cry in tear-fall flood
Three wolves, hungry all, stalk
Each hears the sages laugh
Sharp all, their teeth, they bite
Blood at the end of the path
Lone bird, seeing all, flies
Above petty aimless fights
High up, towards the sky
The freedom of the flight
By Sam from Thinking Cities
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