Save A Man Poem by Zammy Whiz

When thy save a man,
thy save a family.
I was in solitude,
when the sun was ready to lay,
as it set slowly.
my phone rang, three consecutive times,
The man on the line,
plead to lend him some dime,
from my bulging purse,
for I do not need to labour.

But, he's never an honourable man,
and neither does he want to pay his debts,
he works hardly,
like a scribe who labours upon the clay.
he gave no reason.
I swear that evening, a dime I have not to give out.
however, the creaking sound
drifts away my attention,
I took the zombie tool and muted it.
Wished I could cut off its head.

He pleads once more,
therefore, I changed my mind.
Life is hammering him,
hardly that I could hear, the sonorous sound of each stroke,
thoroughly in his faded voice.
it might be from hunger.
He tells me not why he needed it.
but I did save his pride.
the next morrow, he said.
'They save my family from hunger.'

I gave him more items from the soil.
nevertheless, unlike a woman.
merely nourishing her ego.
that's a poem for another summer.