I have a home with bushel basket filled with human delights.
Toe shoes so old that still are so magically bright.
They are winking at me right now here in the night
And comfort me, when I feel a harmful, hateful, slight.
My studio Communion picture is staring at me.
A much young Panagiota,
So innocent, her days so divinelly carefree.
A photoraph of me on that very sad day, my Grandpa died,
I wept so hard, he was forever at my side.
There is nothing in this room, that has zero connection
to the past.
They all are still living things, and even their scents,
Magically, almost supernaturally~last and last.
I wish you all happiness, let all bitterness pass.
You are more than the face in the mirror of glass.
Panagiota Romios
4/30/ 2019
9:159m PST
How much said the man of forty crown
To pay the tax of this town
Taxes are used to pave the street
The fathers try to keep it neat
Levies on your toil
A bushel basket from the soil
A mercantile for commerce trade
Some tariffs make the grade
My dear Sir you exact to much
The rich exempt from interest and such
Money begating money is already taxed
The wealthy have game stacked
Aristotle said charging interest is against the law
But a banker saw the flaw
Money creating money is like a new birth
How much weight is what its worth
I can't afford to live in this town
Cried the man of forty crown
IN THE AUTUMN COLD
in the autumn cold
while all the pinks are drooping
three white roses thrive
may i present
a straw filled bushel basket
with napping kitten