(55) A thief's day and delight.

(55) A thief’s day and delight
It was a scorching day of sun and drought,
the streets adorned with pots in lines kept,
punctuality in necessity and need preserved,
the conscience of the village folk ordered.

The wooden door of the dwelling was kept ajar,
the inmate to fetch water from the street least in a jar,
the intruder entered through the rear,
with careful steps like the cat’s paw to forbear.

The matted cradle in the corner, the poor child’s luxury,
at once a reflection of the dweller’s penury,
the surrounding uncouth atmosphere of umpteen accessory,
not a welcome matter of good augury.

The thief’s eyes drawn by the infant’s childlike , cherubic language,
of deft movements of delicate fingers and words of own coinage,
He unloaded the wicked idea of rummaging the cottage,
delighted to steal himself away alone with the INNOCNT’S IMAGE .