Comment by DeathArrow

In a shadowed alley, near the marketplace’s light,

A wanderer whispered softly in the velvet of the night:

“Tell me, friend, a secret, one cunning and compact —

How does one steal money, and never be caught in the act?”

The old man he had asked looked up with weary eyes,

As though he’d heard this question countless times beneath the skies.

He chuckled like dry leaves that dance when autumn winds are fraught,

“My boy, the only way to steal and never once be caught…