Chips Under the Lamp by Malcolm Teasdale – Monday’s Masterpiece 2 December Prompt – Jem Farmer The Boi Poet

Huddled masses dirty and cold

Tossed in darkness to the foul smelling street.

Has nothing changed since the days of old;

The scuffing and shuffling of leather-worn feet.

Scarcely enough light from streetlamps glow,

They’re hungry with nothing to eat.

The single flame does not any safety show

Any end to this parade they repeat.

Fear thee not for thy faithful friend

Stands by with nary a cry.

His loyalty true never waivers or bends

With allegiance ‘til the day that he dies.

Regardless how hard the hearts turn of man

Take comfort that rewards surely await,

For its all just a part of creations masterplan

And the key through the Pearly Gates.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Monday’s Masterpiece 2 December Prompt – Jem Farmer The Boi Poet