They Never Will
So now we got a stimulus check,
our pockets full, one would expect.
Our larder crammed with cans and jars
to see us through Old Winter's wars.
If only true, it would be nice.
This small amount just won't suffice.
Our sons have mittens, though threadbare;
but better than their underwear.
The blankets--two apiece, but thin.
Their shoes: sad sights, just to begin.
The soup last night was a watery bean,
with day-old bread that's trending green.
The winds blow cold thru our front door;
linoleum cracks adorn the floor.
My job is gone, so is my pride.
I don't like living just to abide.
Now the money's gone and so's the food.
Would I complain? You bet I would!
Still, I'm grateful to have a roof;
not like next door: their lease went poof.
When will those rich folks on The Hill
think of the rest? I guess they never will.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
