Where’s money?

Where’s money?

But where’s money?
When ultimately
you come to this question
my poetry silently walks away.

No moon, no star
no bird, no flower
no sky, no mountain
can truly make her smile.

Hurt, wounded
disappointed and sad
now she thinks for hours
what is her real value on earth?

For hours and days
sometime even for weeks
she doesn’t feel easy to come near
because she earns no real money for me.

via Where’s money?.

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