Money Can’t Buy
I see herOut of the corner of my eyePushing that shopping cart,That silver prison,Containing everything she calls her own.“Maybe I can help,”I think aloud,“But, hey,” I remind myself,Before I take this thought too far,“Money doesn’t grow on trees.”I watch as she leaves her cart unattended,Walking in to browse a store,And I slowly walk to look over the contents of her life.Peering in, I see a box marked simply “Mine.”Before I can stop myselfI pry the box open, and,To my utter amazementFind a beautiful light illuminating the contents.First, I see hopes and dreams,Then joy, peace, and a faith so strongNo storm could ever hope to bring it down.I dig deeper and find self-worth,Beauty,And hope for the future.As I stand there, I realize she’s returned.She stands there, staring,And smiling at me with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.She hands me a twenty dollar bill, andLooking into my eyes says,“Who can be poor when you have so many things thatMoney can’t buy?”
This poem ©