Child Of The Loaf

Child of the loaf Dark and black Bread Swarming in the streets At night Picking From dust-bins. The chill and The heat Be Indifferent. Yet The wisdom of the Owls The songs of the nightingales Bring tears in his eyes. And the night high above Continues its silent revels. In the fields At night A farmer of three jobs Works by the night Tending his sheep And crops Tilling the earth By the light of the Moon By the cool of The breeze His face was shrouded And a strong waft of Wind Unveiled that shroud And Then Unveiled a ghost A rattling skeleton!