Joy derived from money’s bloom
is sad offset to the coming doom
ask the barons for their crumbs
cold medallions are the surplus

those dividends that fill the purse
aren’t enough to reimburse
the bill that children will receive
after the guilty are deceased

their bones laid in watery graves
or scorched beneath the sun’s rays
shed no tear for these ones
the siren sounded while they toiled

looking to the bottom line
while their spawn became the ******
pawned for the brass ring
if only this were fit to eat.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200103.