To one so used to love as he,
‘twas hard to brave such poverty
no fancy cars or wealth to waste
no get-out clause if married, haste.
One cruel twist of fickle riches
reduced him now to digging ditches –
Unused to economic woes,
his leather boots have splitting toes
and now his thoughts are poor-men’s things
like catching crabs and eating kings,
But, content, he settles down
and casts away his tarnished crown;
vows instead to take his pleasure
as it comes, in smaller measure.
When you experience extremes
just sit and listen to your dreams:
don’t expect a lotto win
but write instead of life…
….and sin.
6 comments:
this one caught me today. there is so much to see in an electronic world. only a few nets to get caught in. thank you. i enjoy your expression.
I'm happy to be the wriggling fish in your net, dear lady :)
Really enjoyed this poem, Rach, with your tell tale sense of humour shining through, plus a moral of course!
Thank you Gina :)
Eating Kings? That is most unwholesome. Better stick to crabs, at least they stick to regular garbage...
Fun poem.
Thanks Nathalie :) The kings were bitter in the middle, anyway.
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