Six humans trapped by happenstance In black and bitter cold Each one 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 across the way Saw one not of his church, And couldn't bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch.

The 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 what he had earned From the lazy poor.

The black man's face spoke revenge As the fire passed from his sight, 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 hands.

Was proof of human sin.

They didn't die from the cold without

They died from the cold within.


Tarranum #adventures #poem#frienship#