Paucity is my bedfellow;
in his pit at times I wallow.
It is the state within my mind,
and tightly my life does it bind.
It’s how I grew, it’s what I knew,
it’s what my mind held to be true.
But then I sit and think a while
and it is yet another trial.
For ‘paucity’ is not a lack;
another monkey on my back.
It is to live a simple way,
it lessens not the joy of day.
In fact, there’s many rich I’ve seen,
I don’t want to go where they have been.
So in paucity I can stand tall,
for I’m not poor, not poor at all.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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