|
The girl was
from a wealthy home,
And he was very poor,
They both were told they shouldn't wed,
But thought their love was sure.
The boy
was raised in poverty,
And she, with silver spoon,
And people told them they should wait,
But they were wed in June.
Now, he
had naught of worldly goods,
But had a heart so true,
The man was, oh, so very poor,
But loved her through and through.
At first
his love was quite enough,
She needed nothing more,
But little did she understand,
The things that were in store.
For she
was used to pretty clothes,
And cars so long and sleek,
But now she shops in discount stores,
Instead of fine boutiques.
Yet
spending money was her thing,
But he could not provide,
And though he worked both night and day,
She stayed up nights and cried.
For he
was once her everything,
But wealth got in the way,
And though she loved this working-man,
She knew she could not stay.
Now she
is back where she has wealth,
Inside her parent's home,
Where they provide her luxury,
But she is all alone.
She
wonders why she left the boy,
Who offered so much more,
Than pretty clothes and fancy cars,
And things from boutique stores.
She lives
in wealth-like poverty,
And knows she's destitute,
Of love that's worth its weight in gold,
Because of wealth's pursuit.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
|
