One Dollar
One Dollar
When I was a kid,
I worked for every dime I got.
I folded papers,
I took out the trash,
I did dishes,
washed cars,
and weeded the garden.
Two weeks it would take me,
to earn one dollar.
Two weeks of hard work.
Grandpa told me I was worth every penny,
and that I would make a good worker one day.
I watched him,
I listened to his stories.
I learned all that I could,
about growing up.
I learned all that I could,
about being... grown.
Money comes and it goes,
but the lessons stay through the seasons.
They become more compound,
and more complex.
Sometimes they are harsh and unforgiving,
about birth, life, and death.
Sometimes they are soft and sweet,
and concern matters of the heart.
There is a balance between earning too much,
and giving too much of your life away,
for too little of its value.
The exchange needs to be, fair.
I miss the wisdom of Grandpa's yesterday,
and I must maneuver the path alone now.
Yet, the echo of his teachings,
leave me... better prepared.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2022
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