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Wealth
February 14, 2019
I walk in clothes previously worn.
I sit on the couch that trembles and wobbles.
I scavenge from the table of leftovers unwanted by the wealthy.
I sleep under the roof carpeted with dripping water.
I dream amongst the stars already wished.
I age in the house of the willful.
Though I learn with the worldly,
compete with the winners,
And laugh with the people who make me winded.
What does this make me?
wretched, worthless, wrongful?
wonderful, wholesome, welcomed?
Whatever you wish, be warned
because without a second thought,
I won’t listen.
© Jennifer S., Scituate MA
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