I the Pauper
Please Sir,
Can I have some more ?
Stale morsels of prayer or.
As sun rises,
Slowly aloft on a sky,
Ashen and cold, giving cruel.
No hot soup only ancient gruel.
Piped as dreams,
For lonely children’s bent hopes.
What could come to save the day ?
Taking over from the dismay,
Here where no nippers can play.
Bellowing great giant,
Leaving us all quaking in fear.
The others hide, safe, not I,
I’ll push my luck for today I die.
One last chance of getting high,
Tempting that my end be closing nigh.
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