You can never be sure
When you are in love
Some say it arrives
Like a cold
That chills you within
No wonder it’s
Spreading these days
I suppose I should
Catch it like a yawn
And then feel
Free inside
But is love imperative?
Now that’s a question
For the really rich
As they are the ones
Who often complain
Of not having enough
And go elsewhere
To make more
Duping themselves of and excess
Whereby they cannot
Wish anymore
And return poor
With a will
To conquer the next year.
And fairly enough
The poorest laugh at them
Knowing fully
What they are missing
Their entire life.
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