A lantern light from deeper in the barn
Shone on a man and woman in the door
“I’m sorry, Dear, I cannot carry on.”
He said “but such a place; a filthy floor.”
Look how the birds sit hovered in the rafters,
She said, “It’s warm. The streets out here are cold.
I’m over-weary…see, there’s straw…way back there,
And some of it might not be terribly old.
They stayed the night
The child she bore
Carry on Tuesday--writing practice