Stolen (2006)

Days and nights never exchanged greetings then,
Nor did seasons merge to spell calamity.
The thief rode the night winds to dine,
At the cold cellar of some fateful men.

Born at the harlots den, he was happy
To be living on morsels he snatched with might.
His tattered coat pungent with pride
Were but spoils out of his routine fight.

The distinct dawn put him to sleep
While the rugged dusk shook him to life.
The hands of fate did touch him but once;
Rest was blood for blood and strifes for a strife.

He died on the paddock- he was shot.
The kings' men ravaged through the spoils he got.
What they found was bizarre to see
While blood stroked red the rugged plot.

Some pieces of bread and a nickel he had,
Lillies from Betty's garden for the crippled lad.
His lips quivered once- an arrow for a word,
And all he said ,"Lord, give me another birth!"