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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2196276
What you have is what you perceive it to be.
He knows nothing of cities or finance
Can’t tell you a stock from a bond
In dawn’s early light, whistling he strolls
Down the path to the old trout pond

He sees diamonds aplenty
Glittering at the waters edge
A king’s ransom in gold as the sunlight
Strikes the birch leaves high overhead

He knows he hasn’t much money
But he feels like a forest king
A family of otters his jesters
Birds pay homage and sing

An old tin cup is his chalice
An old ball cap is his crown
Tree tops the roof of his palace
His throne a stump in the ground G. Gabriel

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2196276