adventures in dysthymia

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Treasures, a poem

TREASURES

Tomorrow beat me up
and stole my lunch money;
spent it all on candy
to give the pretty girls.
This one called me 'Sweetheart,'
this one I called 'Honey;'
one took my breath away
when she tossed her curls.

Now I've nothing left
except the memory
of every laugh and word,
each caress and smile.
I may have no fortune,
be that as it will be;
such riches bring contentment
but for a little while.

I blithely let tomorrow
take my every cent;
perhaps a fool and money
do too easily part.
Yet never once I felt
my money poorly spent:
I’ve treasures of a lifetime
stored up in my heart.

Stephen Brooke ©2012

Yeah, yeah, sort of a cliche but what the heck.

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