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The little boy hurries to
allot the troughs
as raindrops seeps through the punctured roof
a dampened mix of cold air and sweat emanates
the moistlike stench can't be misconstrued
local birds gather beneath the porch.
His mother struggles in the back
ladened by the misfortune the day
"more wood! more wood!" the flames must remain
how else would she keep her clientele at bay?
"more wind! more wind!" ere long it'd be dark.
Within the hall, a fight had begun
"reason is mute when the stomach is bare"
an exchange of words and an ego to claim
a blow over here and a tooth over there
it's easy to see this scene would stay long.
The cloud parted way thus ending the gush
the woman emerged to find the wreck they had made
demanding defrayal she screamed 'who here's to blame?'
but I knew but one pundit in this grand charade;
those three simple words north of the porch.
By AlphaSage
Aloft In Thoughts
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