Sparkatius 1817 The Man that lives Underneath the Dome

Poem of a Man named Sparkatius who lived in the 1800's amongst the cold war of long ago. He has a small treasure that keeps him feeling rich, which he saves for another rainy day.

Sparkatius 1817 The Man that lives Underneath the Dome

Cold, ice steel

chains around their ankles,

Big thick legs, 

no body or head

just stomping on the stones

i have to have the rucksack over my back

im bent over to bow

no need to look up

or you get hit on the head

I am ugly and grey

dirt covers my face

skin and bones are my bod

but my treasure is hidden 

I have a secret that keeps me riches

a little treasure can go a long way

my gems of ruby and one emerald green

for sake me not, 

i am worth more than i seem

my pleasure is in my mind

all the riches that i can find

therefor i do not spend

in case of bad weather

that never seems to end

the sky is grey 

the clouds are one 

the stones of the walls

sometimes down they come

the cobble stone path 

leads to my home

I live with others 

underneath the pipes in a Dome

the cold silence that creeps up at night

the fog the comes out of thy mouth

which will be they last

never is it known 

every morning you wake 

is a miracle in its own 

lie beneth the dome 

the shivering cold will take you home.