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We have bartered our tomorrows
To make it seem we might live as kings
Recompense reaping only sorrows
When a bird of prey roosts upon our wings
The fiddler has played for the party
Lulling each with their favored version of tunes
The bill of charge is not for the fool hearty
Which the band is to deliver none too soon

The band was a constructed symphony
Sycophants to lure the unwary to their clutch
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Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: debt
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Those who create wealth from thin air.
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