Author Information
Cold Within, The
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By Others Six humans trapped by happenstance
In black and bitter cold
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the storys told
Their dying fire in need of logs
The first woman held hers back
For of the faces around the fire
She noticed one was black
The next man looking across the way
Saw one not of his church
And couldnt bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch
The third on 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 keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor
The black mans face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from 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 nought except for gain
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game
The logs held tight in deaths still hands
Was proof of human sin
They didnt die from the cold without
They died from the cold within
