let no wind blown the dusk of the morning <br />breeze, the light of the early moist touches <br />the falling tears of every chick <br /> <br />hear the gnashing champ of the bamboo <br />shoot, the sweet brew smell the beetle nut <br />hanging in the Chimney roof <br /> <br />wide and blue ribbon color the street, something <br />has dismay, the camp is open yet it's close <br />for the champ, our hero is on the way <br /> <br />the step started to swing but the body is no <br />where to stay, it's a knock-out, handed by the <br />right fist, there our hero falling to sleep <br />and all have hurriedly gone to pray <br /> <br />dear hero you have made the best to play, even <br />you had promise that someday you will rise again, <br />for the falling leaves wait no more than to flip <br />and fall as it goes to the ground and rest <br /> <br />our hero has lost and will rise again... <br /> <br />"a poem dedicated to MANNY PACQUIO, the 8th times <br /> World Champion in Boxing<br /><br />Antonio Liao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fallen-hero/
