The Millionaire's Club
Down past the meadow is the grand old hotel.
Where statues of marble encircle the ponds
Tall cypress line up like soldiers at arms,
saluting each limo that comes down the hill
Limousines arrive daily, like vultures of prey,
to stop and eject their catch of the day
There is proof on arrival, of fortune and assets.
Hosts greet each guest, as the day stretches on,
sporting long coat-tails and red satin vests
As we watched from our hillside, from a vast world away,
we're inclined to walk down, to take a survey
Too rich for our blood! We are flooded with awe
Yet, we're drawn to peek in. Where the rich wine and dine
and we will try, most discreetly, to blend into grey.
Alabaster stone gates, and the thick sculptured stairs
are reeking affluence, that we'll never share
__
Heading back to our campground, on the river's west side,
we returned to our tent, tucked under the pines
It's been faded by sunlight, patched together with twine
Where contentment is canvas, and the wind is a song,
and where water makes music, and the breeze is a poem
Our belongings are in order, (in a disorderly way)
A camp-stove, a lantern, for the end of the day
A tent, (army surplus)…. and a stack of dry wood
will add to our comfort, as well as it should
Would we want to change places, if ever we tried?
Would we trade all our moonscapes, or the chipmunks, or tunes?
As we sat by the fire, to remember our day
We have watched the bright embers, as they floated away
Pinpricks of fire that mixed with the stars
We've been granted our millions, ….while owning the sky.
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
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