I would have fed
you loaves of bread
enough to feed armies
I would have knead
soft dough lovingly
with salt of my tears
as blessings baked
fresh loaves in hot
large communal ovens
served loaves hot
warm crisp with rich
yellow butter to melt
in receptive mouths
but there was no decades
time to write poems
no mentor no patron
to aid ease taken path
I gifted you six thousand
three hundred plus poems
but these are only a few bread
crumbs to gift what I could
have written; back in 85 or 87?
I wrote the prophetic lines
read marvel at the dross
while too few mourn a greater loss
in the bitter poem 'Stone Cross'
later to become 'Stone Cross Prologue'
yes I would have Sibyl gifted you loaves
of baked wisdom but now all you receive is
a few bread crumbs stale from birds protected
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem