I, bankrupt
beggar; You,
bank machine,
manager
of reserves.
You, Giver
of good, grace
dispensing
like crisp bills;
I, endless
consumer
craving else,
spending gifts
like water.
You, lending
to paupers
currency
to purchase
Life; I, debts
mounting, limp
destitute
to soak up
charity,
walk away
with my hands
and heart full.
Advertisements
OK…I will always think of you every time I use one of those charity machines. 🙂 Well done!!!
🙂 Don’t you love thinking about making endless withdrawals for free???
ummmmmm…..yes!!!! 😀
forgot my PIN…
guess i’ll never
win.
what a sin.
could you
loan me a fin?
Enquire within.
…not again.
Grin.
(Do I win?)
God in everything! I am just on my way out to the ATM. I shall inform the machine that it has some stiff competition in the banking business and it needs to cut me a better deal 😀
Hahahaha!!! I LOVE it! Get bossy!
Mmmm….it just told me I am running on empty 😉
Ouch! 😉 Time for a new ATM….. hehe
😀
Clever. Very clever!
🙂 Thanks, Patty!
This poem immediately reminded me of a winter day about 25 years ago when I was in a shopping mall with my then toddler son. He wanted a new toy and I told him we didn’t have the money to buy it. He was sitting in his stroller and pointed to an ATM and said: mom, you can always take money from the wall 🙂
HA! A bit over-simplified, perhaps, but not wrong. Not by a long shot. Smart kid… 🙂