by Thomas Banks (June 2021)
You will not in my history
Find out a tale of gladness;
The yoke, the plough, the goad: here see
The sources of my sadness.
A slave of herdsmen day to day,
As were my sire and mother,
Who died and payed, as I shall pay,
With blood some god or other.
But I remember one cold night
When three men did reward me
With kingly gifts, fragrant and bright,
While they with prayers adored me.
Short, poignant and it rhymes. What's not to like?