As one night alone I sat
like a ghost, late night, in my flat
All that, for my company, was hunger
and by which had increased my anger.
As fuming I went inside my kitchen
anything to eat wasn’t there much to my chagrin .
Though there was, for me to use, a stove
to cook I didn’t , have a clue, how.
Though I knew that mice were running in my stomach
and instead of thinking that it was my, to get a grub, bad luck
I thought that I spare a thought on those unfortunate few
who, how to get even a single meal, don’t have a clue.
I remembered when food I had treated as waste
especially when it wasn’t my liking or in taste.
Had I, at that time, not acted like an ingrate
on the poor, it would have made me, compassionate.
Though what I’ve put in this verse
may look not much and really terse
I thought about the importance I should tell
to all those who read this as those I know well.
So, once this poem, by one and all, has been understood and read
can be hoped that we understand the importance of our daily bread.
By being people who claim to be educated and wise
Its time, about others and its importance, we realize.
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