Food...Not Of The Gods

          There is a Beggar
          Who waits to be fed,
          a Visitor from the
          Kingdom Of The Dead

          The Beggar hovers,
          silent in the sun
          Passing in His shadow...
          a life cycle is now done

          He is a dark figure
          standing in the Iraqi sands
          and stretching forth to some,
          .......... His bony hands

          Soldiers chosen
          for this Specter’s band
          will never....
          ...go home again

          For their life,
          He does crave...
          His dinner table
          is at their lonely grave

          A feast He does always win....
          The grave is sated for now,
          until this beggar, Death,
          ...is hungry again...

          ©Faye Sizemore 6/24/03