Fortune beams on men of wit and guile,
But rare so often to the ones that bend,
A warning to the wanting soul I send,
That though you walk the true and second mile,
And work though honestly and vaunted while,
Pure rain and gallant sun will steady tend,
To grow the bounteous fields and ready rend,
A treasure trove to those with greedy smile,
Behold a message bold within will come,
That though your counted coffer’d coins are few,
Procured a debt to others you must pay,
True joy in life is meant for all not some,
Its love which fills each treasured heart anew,
An overflow of riches found each day.
Peter Lowell Paulson
May 10, 2011
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