Sweet Bread

A tale in poem form

There once was a little morsel of sweet
Bread, sitting next to its loaf,
Fresh baked and warm.

But soon the world took control,
The cold wind made it stale,
The humidity created mold,
Leeching off it and thriving.

The morsel whittled away,
Clinging to what was
Left - wondering how it
Got there.

The more the mold grew,
The more the cold wind blew,
The smaller the sweet bread became,
The weaker the sweet bread felt.

Soon the morsel was gone,
And the mold overgrew, until
soon it died too, starving
Without the sweet bread's innocence.