I was told Money is a language
I believed- English is
I was told, when Money talks
Grammar is oblivious
So I planted shrubs and trees
With dandy poetic fantasy
Blooms growing in black light,
Blooms beguiling bumble bees
Tolling upon the watcher’s eyes
Verses grew like projections
And financed a timid dream
Through sundry dashes of sanity
A little honey everywhere
A lot when put together
A poem for every daze
A verse for every weather
And so the mind faces the endless
In a search of new soil
For there are seeds that yet await
The tilling and ploughing toil
-K.G.
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