Nobody that I ever knew...
Paid me one cent at all
And so my poems were quite few...
That drove me up the wall,
But if I got some money paid...
My word, I'd write and write,
To pay my bills, no more dismayed...
Yes, I'd write day and night...
And out of poems that I'd penned...
Who knows what God could do?
Alas, there's not one paying friend...
Not one, not even YOU!
Denis Martindale April 2019.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem