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Crumbs
I’m not sorry
That when I was given crumbs,
I stopped asking for bread.
I will scrape them from my table,
Let them escape my hand.
You can certainly follow the trail
But it will no longer lead you
To a mouth
Open with hunger,
A starved belly
Aching with yearning.
You’ll find me alone
Or in the company of others,
Friends,
Lovers,
Contented and cheerful
Laughter, an earful.
No longer cold and fearful,
Scratching at your window
For the attention I would never get,
But always deserved.
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