The circumstance of money pervades and endures.
It is mindless, like water, it goes to it's source.
Can anybody claim the Ocean?
The Mediteranian or the Dead?
The Pacific or the Atlantic?
These are our sea's; the you's and me's.
We can use them, if we pay the fees.
Again, always, back to money.
Sometimes it rains, sometimes it pours, other times it's sunny.
Too little, too much; isn't it funny?
Heat and sleet
Sand at your feet
Heaven and Hell
Whats in your well?
© Copyright 2016 Don George. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Mystery and Crime
Poem / Non-Fiction
Poem / Poetry
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