Author Jonathan Chaves Walking with the moon, traveling by the stars. Cold Food Festival in lonely inns, then autumn back home. Wife and children put on weight, I just wither away, sad on my pillow, grieving on my horse, only death a rest. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments