The Taste of Bread

I can hear them with their laughter dinig on their wine and steak hunger has to wait 'til after doors are closed to fill my ache. I hide inside the dumpster green like the garbage, unaware until the grubby hands are seen throwing in my daily fare. The echoed footsteps fade away silently I open bags what have they brought for me this day- this crumpled soul in dirty rags? Bones with gristle, rice pilaf some beans and cold potatoes there's meat that they did not chew off and slimy wet tomatoes. The foul smells that I notice not as I keep hunger at bay would make another lose their lot but I'll live another day. Survival is my only goal but I would give instead my heart and yes, my crumpled soul for the tatse of fresh baked bread.