Famine

The sinking sun is now undone,
the sky is fading red.

A spider black hides in a crack
and spins a silken thread

And babes will soon collapse and swoon,
on stones they call a bed;

With vacant eyes they fantasize
and dream of gingerbread,

And then are freed, though still in need,
from anguish of the dead.

poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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