Luca Menin


Poverty


Oh mother bosom, holding your child
Yours arms, like a nest of warm cuddles.
Cast shadows, the heaven cool shade
Your words, hungry, fed of sour milk and sore
Trapped, pouring into empty stomachs
Embrace humanity- poverty
That the hearts of people, leisure devours.
The rich fantasy of your child
That embraces childhood games of spice.
Where life dwells.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Edited: Friday, August 10, 2012
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