Prose-ac

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

Prospects

The squirrel searches the barren trees
For nuts but none will yield.
Earth is scratched for pitiful treasures
Of years gone by when springs were fair.

The countless debts and tuition fees
Accrue while wages wilt.
The country wrecked, roads only lead
To the city where the soulless breed.


Posted by Peter Bickerton at 14:48 No comments:
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