Life into variant classes is made
Demarcating first from economy,
Where many fills up the cabin
Tail, who don't have pretty penny.

Same flight, but distinct delights;
One world, yet peculiar living.
Each exists by their own ticket
With cloned greetings and grin.

On earth half alive is he
that be without money.

Would you still love me:
If the sun prevents its light
And the moon its glow at night,
That all at once becomes gloomy?

Would you still love me:
If all things awry go
And nothing at all to show,
But a good token of misery?

Would you still love me:
If my arrow cannot kiss
Thy waiting bow's release,
To have a bout of ecstasy?

Would you still love me:
If medical reports say "cancer "
That has no surgical answer,
Or another form of infirmity?

Or would you only love me:
If my life wields a touch of Midas
With the revelry of Las Vegas--
All sublime, all sweet, all rosy?

Lubricating life with
pure love
doth remove
rust from the heart.

Forsaken: crestfallen, and he's been
Vacant, but bestirring himself now to
Once more go out on a limb to seek,
If haply he could a new find pronto,

A girl who'd like a medicine his heart
Mend and fill, with her rib, the space
In his side with her perfectly cast love,
Fitting unto him for the rest of his days.