Dying from the Cold Within
Author Unknown, Submitted by Jude in Wash.
Six humans trapped by happenstance, in bleak and bitter cold.
possessed a stick of wood. Or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of
logs, The first woman held hers back,
For on the faces around the fire, She
noticed one was black.
The next man looking cross the way, Saw one not of his
And couldn't bring himself to give, The fire his stick of birch.
third one sat in tattered clothes, He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log
be put to use, To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought,
Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned, From the
The black man's face bespoke revenge, As the fire passed from his
For all he saw in his stick of wood,
Was a chance to spite the white. And
the last man of this forlorn group,
Did naught except for gain. Giving only to
those who gave,
Was how he played the game. The logs held tight in death's still
Was proof of human sin. They didn't die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.