Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Oh, where do the hours go?
You say that I’m conceited.
Just because you don’t water your own flowers,
doesn’t mean you get to stomp on mine.
My garden is healthy and strong.
I won’t let you crush what it took me years to grow.
Instead of hurting mine, tend to your own.
Maybe your garden can grow too.
You say that I’m a dreamer,
That my head is too far up in the
clouds to watch where I’m walking.
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“Echoes” is a poetry collection featuring today’s most remarkable, modern poetry by both new and award-winning poets of all ages and nationalities.
In this poetry magazine, you’ll find deep meaningful poems about life and living, sincere poems about thoughts and feelings, dark & sad poetry, as well as an inspirational poem; along with complimentary striking paintings.
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All of that money would come to you free,
providing of course that you owned the tree.
The tree would be yours if you planted the seed
and nurtured and cared for its every need.
You’d be rewarded with bushels of cash,
and cash in this world is surely not trash.
The problems it solves are more than a few,
and money can buy many extras for you.
You’d shop for a car with a bushel of “ones.”
For a house you could spend “ones” by the tons.
Like a king in his castle you’d have command
of all you surveyed all over the land.
While you imagine (what would be the harm?)
instead of one tree, have a money tree farm?
Since each piece of money is denominated,
grow what you want of what’s circulated.
Then harvest your “ones” from a Washington plant,
“tens” from a Hamilton and “fifties” from a Grant.
A Franklin would grow “hundreds” for you.
What more could you want your trees to do?
But money from trees, whatever the gender,
nowhere in this world, could be legal tender.
In the struggle for power or the scramble for pelf,
for success in this world, rely on yourself.