Ode to a Crumb

 

A crumb is such a crumbly thing

A fragile tiny flake

It waits so patiently upon a plate

Or rests upon a table top

Never knowing where or when

Dark destiny will sweep it to a pail

Or often by a well aimed hand

To shoot it spiraling to the sand

Concealed or cursed it never knows

Exactly when its innocence will close

Too late to learn indifference rules

It flutters helplessly beneath a stool

No prayers or cleric sacraments to bless

How pitiful to be abbreviated into nothingness

 

Ted Goodell

October 18, 2014

 

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