Show Of Poverty Poem by Maureen Pickford

In life, I have strived too much in the past.
Health comes before wealth so why all the pride?
Chasing the latter can well-being scythe.
So let's treasure possessions, make them last
A whole lifetime. They will become steadfast
With memories to bring comfort inside.
We are not poor really. We tell bare lies.
Happiness is always within our grasp.
Let's spare a thought for the factory slaves
Toiling at the face of technology.
They might be the heroes of our New Age.
They work hard. Their lives are held rigidly
To ransom by the Capitalist Kings.
It's poverty of time, their work load brings.