They burn it - to long have they not
Your enemy fires your sacred thatch
Your promptu death is shown by it
The beasts no bigger then ones fingernail
live, breath and spawn in your sacred thatch
And come down for you, your bites are shown by it
The reap which ends your loving life
Cuts you down like the straw of your sacred thatch
The mourning of your wife is shown by it

But!

It keeps you warm, dry and cozy.
Your sacred thatch
But in the end, you die by it

Thatch!



I hope you enjoyed it. My alternative poetry on an alternative subject.

With Love,
Eirefal Nakanishi

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Mayan, in the year 359 AF.