I’M JUST A POOR BOY
No car do I own, socks’ full of holes, day by day an hourly wage,
I lie there In bed worrying about tomorrow, a bed of my own.
No credit cards’ or a bank account, my only money In an aging wallet,
A table of food always, dinner as a poor boy will gladly serve.
Clothes on my back, shoes that take me to where I survive,
Blesses of many In a world of sorrow and strife.
I’m just a poor boy with a smile and a tear, a wish and a fear,
What I lack In gold Is made up of treasure discovered every day.
I’ll take a trip somewhere from my mind, to a place of fantasy,
A rich man can’t find, where a poor boy can’t buy.
I’m just a poor boy with so much to give, I give to you,
I’m just a poor boy, what’s a poor boy to do.
Keith Garrett
Maybe, the only thing worse than being poor is being rich.
I need no sympathy~~
Oh, wait… 😀
Thanks for reading.
Despite my, uh, rather crude attempt at humor, I liked how you illustrated the poor boy as someone who has treasures beyond money and wealth.
Have a nice day.
Thanks so much for reading.
On Thu, Jun 13, 2019 at 7:09 PM keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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