Roof Poem by Ridge Dillard

You’ve a roof over your head
Under which you break bread
and share the other comforts you have earned
From All the hours you have burned
Time Spent
In hopes that it would transfigure
Into Wealth
But perhaps the finer things can’t be purchased
Perhaps Fortune is Burden
Perhaps…
But your ceiling is intact
Yes, your ceiling is intact
But in fact you miss the stars
Numberless and far
You say my mind is jarred
I say at least it’s ajar
Unlike Me You’ve a roof over your head
Under which you break bread
But I’d rather drink cheap beer and watch the stars.