Worked all my life for 40 years
Wasn't painful, had no tears.
Now times have changed, turned to rust
Have no money, no longer upper crust.
All my friends have all the answers
But they're no help, to fight this cancer.
It's not a fight that needs chemotherapy
All I need is something monetary.
Some people can change their lives in a moment
I'm not one of them, I wish I could foment.
I'm a creative man looking for his place.
Where I belong in this human race.
Everyone has faith in me
What will happen is meant to be.
I wake each day in total fear
For I feel the end is near.
Yet even though I'm just sixty
There's still time, I need not be wispy
Every time I sit and write
I feel my strength to my delight.
I'd like to write from morn til night
Not have to work, what a fright.
Can I ever enjoy this pleasure?
Or will it be some long lost treasure?