A Salt Biscuit's sleep

 I am dozed for a quarter year in the jar,

 I am frozed for a barter pear in the bar.

I gazed at toddlers, who thronged,

I am amazed at fodders that longed.

I traced the mob that strolled at my shop,

I am braced with sob that enrolled me to hop.

I graced with cheers at the hustling courteous air,

I embraced with tears at the bustling joyous affair.

Thy salt stricken form engraved for enclosure,

and thy halt driven dorm craved for disclosure.

I am grabbed from a petty shop’s glass jar,

and barbed like a nutty bishop’s mass war.

       

Thy lifeless aura in glassy vessel,

Thy guileless aura in crassly meddle,

made me active on getting robbed.