What a Story did
Sometimes or often enough to become a norm
we are a product of stories told in the environment
we live in as children of north/westerly wind,
residing in a pitiable home with tempest and storm.
I, when our teacher read stories from the bible-soaked
it all up I could see the stable, straws and donkeys
I grew up left home and forgot about childish things
but, hold on, I live in a converted stable
in a landscape of olive trees some as old as the Bible
(Which one) do shut up let me continue, and when
it rains my home have the aroma of mules and dry hay.
I live frugally, but have two suits and want to give one
to someone needy, the best suit is for my funeral I like
to look like the executive, I never was.