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They call her rustic,
But grandma knows
Better math than they.
If we are ten and
Have twenty to share,
She’d give us two each,
But they give us none,
Yet she is illiterate.
And they are learned.
A country of flowing milk,
Where dirty water is taken,
The milk could replace water,
But they hoard it,
Yet it is limit less,
All fingers aren’t equal, they say
Never cut off others hands,
And throw it to their dogs,
Dogs they would eat in time.
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Reality
I come alive when I write and the feeling that those few lines may impact positively on a soul unknown to me or even elicit a smile makes it a worthwhile endeavour.
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