Every day
the old man
spends the hours
rummaging through
garbage cans
for food and
other things.
especially
bits of wire.
In the evenings,
well past midnight,
he melts down
the wire bits
found that day.
Every month,
he produces
a kilogram
of copper
he sells for
twenty-dollars.
,
He worked hard
every day
and survived.
He was content
He said:
“I have no worries.
People throw-away
more than I can use,
I get to choose
only the best.”
-
Author:
Trenz Pruca (
Offline) - Published: December 21st, 2020 18:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments4
In a world where plenty draws the attention of jealous eyes, seldom is heard the word "enough".
good enough to be posted as a standalone write Dusk, Amen!
He's getting a good deal for that copper. The current price for scrap copper is USD 5.61 a kilogram. The record is USD 10.1/kg, set about nine year ago.
A happy man indeed as your words have shown us Trenz.
Andy
oh, that's one 'mule kick' of wisdom you've planted on me with that last stanza...
Brilliant!
Happy holidays dear Poet
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