Fear the Mountain not the Climb

poetry

The winter is a comin and 
I have got no potatoes left
Oh Lordy lord I am on my way
to starvation road, 
Little scrawny Gee points at the holes 
In his shoes, saying 
” oh sister will we make it to good ol christsmas ?”
Da and Ma ran away to heaven, and so  
Baby Jesus comes each year to us with charity soup
He is a nice old baby, thousand years old and everything 
I wish he’d bring cake instead.