Читать книгу Dark Soil - Stringer Arthur - Страница 9

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The cell seemed very dark

And as I groped about in a daze,

Exploring unfriendly walls

And the steel bars bastioned in stone,

Something fragile and small

Crunched under my feet.

When I stopped and stooped low

I found on the granite floor

A little heap of cherry-stones,

Carved cherry-stones,

Patiently tooled and polished

By a lifer who’d lived and died

With so little to do and know

In the darkness.