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Poem

When I was young and had zero dollars to spend
Grandpa's skiff with succulent mangoes I loved to tend
With view of City canal, flowing not far from home
Near thoroughfare with perfect patrons; few not so grown
Not so proud as I, safe with shillings from tropic fruits, sold
Sans chant. I never had to beg, my joy was always two fold.

Times have changed, I wouldn't sell jack; my family knows
Sales has never been my forte; I'll be lackadaisical, and let it show
For I'd rather be a P.R. person, who sniff labels and goods that entice
As deals, but trick the masses with much gook, some unnoticed
But that's not all with sales; folks will look you up and down
As though you're part and parcel of goods they've found.
...

Entry for Sara Kendridk's 'Two Lenses' poetry contest

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