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I feed the sticks to hobo’s fire
to warm my half-gloved hands from night
and shield my reddened cheeks of blight
that’s caught my breath in wintered light.

I ope the bean and bacon soup
and feed the sticks to hobo’s fire
in hopes of beating nasty croup,
perhaps my spirits to recoup.

The under-bridge community
live lives of broken unity.
I feed the sticks to hobo’s fire
in hopes of one more day to see.

The evening sun can scarce inspire
a love of life, when life conspires
to cast some men past all desires
and feed the Styx this hobo’s fire.

) written in response to a Form for All on DversePoets  .. I’ve been writing many rubaiyat lately, so I kind of melded the quatern form to have some rubaiyat characteristics (

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