I’ll live till the day is through,
and there’s nothing you can do.
There’s little to be shared now.
Few words to utter, and no vow.
Not much that we have left untold,
but the wish we could turn back time.
Well, I got no reason to rhyme,
now that my body is getting cold.
(*) JERRY MILL é membro-fundador da ARL (Academia Rondonopolitana de Letras).
