Millions.
They say the old man was worth that much
It said so on his bank statement
And stock portfolio.
His wealth was measured by
His fleet of Italian cars and his
Armada of Spanish yachts.
Earthly wealth.
Coveted.
His withered body was draped in the
Most expensive handmade silk
From the marketplaces of India
And his viewing was placed in the largest cathedral
Reserved for men who spent their lives hoarding
Gold and Power.
It was a somber event:
The day of the old man's funeral
But the only tears that were wept
Were by those whose names had been left out of his will.
Coveted.
Those in the vast audience stole glances at solid gold watches
As the orator dragged on about the man's rich life
Meaningless words.
They could care less
So the world was without one more millionaire...
Pocket change.
They say the aged father was worth that much.
It said so on his bills
And supermarket name tag.
His poverty was measured by
His five young, adoring children
Who realized their own wealth had just been taken from them.
More-than wealth.
Coveted.
His sweat stained body was draped in the
Oldest heirloom lace
From the dusty attic of their inter-city shack
And his viewing was placed in the small chapel on the corner
Reserved for men who spent their lives providing for their families,
Love and hope.
It was a somber event:
The day of the aged father's funeral.
And the tears that were wept
Were by those who would never spend time with the man again.
Coveted.
Those in the audience dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs
As the pastor recalled the man's rich life
Nostalgic words .
Their lives would never be the same
Because the world was without one more kind soul...
Millions.
They say he was worth that much...
not many poems actually make me feel anything so well done on that part!
