Someday on the round table

If we should tell our story
It would be too soon
Those journey without a lorry
In the hot afternoon
We could be sick and tired
But kept climbing the hill
As we were weird
To pass through the mill
Maybe, someday in life
As we sit around the table
With the strong and able
We can Sigh and laugh

This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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