MONSOON

Swamped with the unwanted

Either too much or too little

We do not live in a Goldilocks world

Perfection exists in momentary bubbles only

Once viewed they change in subatomic ways

Most of us do not get to see them anyway

The instruments of wealth do not trickle down

With our noses pressed against the glass ceiling

We eagerly watch with a distorted view

The one which began at birth and has been added to

If only I could steal their microscope I think

Perhaps I would see what they see too

Deep down I know that money makes no difference

Porridge is porridge is porridge whether hot or cold

And all of us are dependant on the monsoon

 

 

Copyright October 2014

 

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