Rich Girl , Poor Boy

she wakes from velvets and cottons,
dresses in around the world known creations,
from shelves picked,
all to fill her wants,
she dines among kings,
served in silver wares,
by men and women,
her taste always a prioty,
never long a distance does she walk,
a guard to her assigned,
everywhere a guardian to follow,
from this her palatial dwelling,
to wherever her mind guides,
be in the broadness of day,
or the thin dark of night,
the 'chiefs' daughter they say...

he wakes from torn boxes,
many he worked hard to get,
cold,
and a stomach that won't seize the rumbling,
no one to fed for him,
but the solo creature that he be,
a glass of water drunk in faith,
he gets into tatters,
through many tailors have passed,
in a prayer he leaves the rusty tins that him shelter,
a heart filled with hope,
that these golden rays that the air pierce,
a consolation shall bring,
a fatherless son,
a mother long gone,
a poor boy...

many a times they have met,
with each a meeting a radiant in his eyes seen,
and she admiration of him always betraying,
his pains she knows,
forced a meal for him to steal,
time to time,
a sneaky affairs unknown,

them together is a sin,
to be known in a tragedy shall end,
and curses in anger made,
secrecy,
their only true friend...

tonight be their night,
a plan that for long been created,
revised,
and rehearsed,
so they sit awaiting the moons tip,
on the first wink to act,
through those clear waters to run,
shackles broken,
a freedom each in their way to taste,
anticipation,

©2011