The Poor Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The poor

The Poor laughed to a call:
“Hey”

Moments went by:
“What is up? ”

“Watching football.”

Friends of the same age; and past
Born villagers, in farmlands.

School, high-school, uniform
Life changed for old aviators.

Astray, on the run to be safe
Years passed till they met.

“Is this you? ”
Had come age.

Taller rich, shorter poor.
No one could have a clue.

Age is the same for both.

The Poor seeks a job
Paying the debts is a must.

The poor says of his need.
“Gladly keeps on feet.”

Rich sits home with TV.
Time passes, he, waiting.
For a knock at the door.
“Please death, welcome in.”