Mettle After The Bond[P]

Ice, ice, ice for a little price,
Ice, ice, ice for a little price,
Crackled a voice in bitter spice,
As little a hope stares from his eyes.

Round and round, he strolls around,
As dark of dusk on him surround,
Little after soon again he croon,
With glitter in his eyes to see its boon.

Tickle after he hear a longing in his ears,
Cries of hunger from his love of the years.

Towards the store his brittle legs stagger,
As his two paisa earn him bread of meager.

Step after step he hoped into his nest,
To find ghastly scene that squeezed his chest.

Lay on the floor his beloved one snore,
Still and calm as a pebble on the shore.

Drips from deep his tears doth seep,
So loud as a thunder doth he weep.

Time ran on, on its legs and core,
As spirit of mettle doth his heart bore,
Mind and his soul ran so high and high,
As like the wings of wet bird doth fly.