Crumbs Are No Comfort Poem by Andy Brookes

'Sometimes you have to make do with the crumbs or stale bread.'she said
'Supposing that you had a slice of bread or otherwise.' I reply.
passing over and following the trail before other quicker, younger
birds take them but then who knows, settling might be good.

'Never.' is the voice in my head but then where do you start
making bricks without straw is not I suppose impossible but why do it?

'You know.' she says. 'I wonder why I bother.' the Muse as usual is taking a defensive stance.
Erecting barricades I find no use 'Sometimes.' I say 'You throw me crumbs, flashes of inspiration.

'Ha.' she says 'That's what you think.' and leaves the scent of failure in her wake.

Sometimes I think we have to make do with the crumbs its all we have to hand.
Her laughter on the wind is no comfort, time I think for lunch.