I see no way to sell my breath
As countless others do.
When it’s the key to life and death,
I should be able to.

It isn’t that I haven’t tried;
I’ve long set out my stall.
But, though I’ve tempted, begged and cried,
I always hit a wall.

But, loath to always moan and groan,
I let the commerce be
And breathe, instead, for me alone;
It’s anyway for free.

How could I think to put a price
On draughts of air from paradise?

Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash

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