And people paused to listen.
So serious were the words.
'Breast Cancer claims so many lives,
we're looking for a cure,
so help us find one, all we need
is money, to be sure.'
Yet, all the breasts and all the money,
combined in efforts to defeat
this cruel cancer will not yield.
But funds keep flowing in its name.
The lady of this new appeal,
herself a victim in remission,
does roll her tongue around the word,
in avid fascination.
She smiles to whisper
that if we give
she will not have
to say
those deadly words again.
She then returns to
printing more brochures,
and doorknock pamphlets,
even daffodils,
on patient paper
of appealing colour.
This is so insightful, Herbert. ' All we need is money ' are words that bear no truth because no amount of it can ease the despair. You express this perfectly. Chrissie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hey, love it. keep up the good work but money dosnt fix the pain, it may only hide it...... x amber x