Just living off the goodness of others,
Feeling as lowly as a morsel of
No use asking why.
The world spins as it spins.
No use wishing to cry.
No longer able to work with hands or mind,
Feeling as worthless as a slug on
Scarce are the raindrops in
Living out this pauper’s birth.
Still, I smile
As I lift reddened eyes to the heavens,
Above the worldly guile.
Still, I smile.
by S.A. Bort 11 December 2015