LXXXIII

My life is but a poor man's honesty—
A daily, dogged race that still affords
Somehow to fend off numbing poverty,
By sharing heartfelt what my heart awards.

So, my life knows no paucity of heart,
Makes poor man rich for being rich with you;
Then, desire, shown me—your love's dearest part—
Makes rich men poor for being rich, not true.

Bankrupt in bill but not bankrupt in will,
Through written lines—my treasured truth surmounts,
Reveal I love you, and shall not fulfill
The wealth of lies from others' past accounts.

In countless ways enriched, my heart—you hold;
From cheapest pen and page, I give my gold.

 -Michael D. Petti 

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