The Cost of Living

Just a little upset here:
Nurses running gaily;
Skirts appear and disappear,
Nightly trimmed and daily.

Riches, as we know, take wing.
See the dollars flying.
Living is a costly thing.
So, it seems, is dying.

After all, some good may be
In perpetual riot.
Friends of mine consider me
Much too fond of quiet.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.