'Spreading Your Butter Too Thin' Poem by Linda Winchell

Sometimes we spread lifes butter so thin,
That the true flavor can loose its' taste.
Go about spending every sent that's made,
And creating mountains of human waste.

Prospering on ancestors energies,
Who had founded this great land.
We have taken all their spoils,
And squandered most of what was had.

Apprenticed in the ways of those,
Who gladly gave their lives.
Building artistic creations with sweat of brow,
Now few but of relics have survied.

Antiques for some, collectables for others,
Once used by Great Grandparents,
Their Grandparents', parents Fathers and Mothers.

When will we too become,
But that disposable part of life?
Forgetting all the blood, our sons' and daughters' have shed,
Now relics of wars painfull strife.

Spend not too much,
Save not of it all.
By spreading the butter too thin,
You may loose the real meaning of it all.