laying down this cold night
rain plods and plops my roof
i wear on a cheerful sight
that I myself own a home
afterwards I face my left
i think about the many poor
on their head this rain dealt
while they sleep on cold wet floor
if I choose to write a poem
the pauper will surly be first
penning down a cyclic problem
a driving motivation at its best
i cease to write about the rich
they are rich, they own money
while i eat my broken-bony fish
they feed on ravishing honey
i claim not poverty nor wealth
that I may be humble and cool
whether in this life or death
lets us live the best we could
"The Rich, poor and Faba" By Faba
19/06/15
Read More: http://allpoetry.com/Faba
#life #poetry #poem #poor #rich #faba #rain #allpoetry #ezyfabanatu
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