Money with Wings

 

Money with Wings

Born 1946 the Big One was over

in the 50s we played with Lincoln logs

Korea was playing cymbals of hate

60s brought prom nights and passion

Vietnam hot and sweaty reared its head

jungles beckoned my youth, my dreams

dashed by a steel helmet

black boots climbed hills in Kentucky

youth stolen by the vulgarity of war

Now a million stars ago I sit in my recliner

watching a sad lady torched and crying.

America never failed me

not even in my darkest hours.

Growing old tells me  no man changes.

Money lives on eternally,

Heaven writes a haughty epitaph

for those with jingling pockets.

One comment

  1. Excellent Work…As Usual. So Honest and Inspiring. Thanks for Sharing.

    Like

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