Colleen, meticulously made, the beauty of the world, With a therapeutic smile, That brings life. Colleen, As colorful as the rainbow, From man, Your descend. Colleen, Why did you let in devourers into the garden of grapes, to squeeze to the last drip, off the delicacy? Colleen, now the vineyard dry, scorched as a farm in famine the famine for life laying desolate, the scar eternal. Colleen, the ants have started to creep, the mad man has his way but with no food to eat, they die and......
Six humans trapped by happenstance, In black and bitter cold, Each possessed a stick of wood, or so the story is told. Their dying fire in need of wood, The first woman held hers back, For the faces around the fire, She noticed one black. The next man looking across the way, Saw one not of his church, And couldn’t bring himself to give, The fire his stick of birch. The third man sat in tattered clothes, He gave his coat a hitch, Why should his log be put to use, To......