Inflation Poem by Natasa To

Inflation walks in quiet shoes,
No thunderclap, no headline blaze—
Just coffee costing one more coin,
And rent that climbs in hazy ways.



A loaf of bread forgets its price,
The dollar stretches thin as rain,
While paychecks stand beside the road
Like tired horses pulling pain.



The waitress counts her tips twice over,
The teacher skips a second peach,
A father stares at gas-lit numbers
Now drifting just beyond his reach.



Meanwhile, markets hum in towers,
Graphs ascend like gilded kites,
Experts speak in measured jargon
Through polished teeth on cable nights.



Inflation is a subtle thief—
It never kicks the front door down.
It lifts a little every day
Until the pockets lose their sound.



Yet people still plant spring tomatoes,
Still laugh in checkout aisles somehow,
Still pass around the Sunday biscuits
And make enough from less than now.



Because the world has always balanced
Between the ledger and the heart:
A rising cost on one side written,
And human grace on the other part.