The Last Organ Grinder

In poverty's desperation
She finds the old organ
Where it's stored under the stair.

It belongs to the man who is gone
Leaving her and his children alone,
This cold winter turned into despair.

Frozen air surrounds her,
As she grinds out the tunes
Almost alone on the street.

The warmth of windows watch her,
Their families safely ensconced
As she trudges home.

She knows
Her children will eat only turnips 
again.

warfree verse

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