Eleuthoromania Likes to hold my hand Even when I tell it I am taken, Unavailable, betrothed and affianced Tethered to a man who bets with solid things. He says precious stones and he means gems. But I, (Oh silly child that I am,) I Remember when precious stones were only Ordinary rocks with mica threads that glinted in the light. Money moves the world, though, And I must move with it. I am in it, after all Not above, dwelling in some cloud, no. I am in it. And this marriage of necessity will happen, (whether I dream of it or not.)
Hi I kind of love acrostic poems now Toss me a coffee and a word and I’ll write you a poem <3 https://ko-fi.com/sjblasko