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On early morning stroll along the beach,
I met an old dishevelled, broken man,
Whose words would me a lasting lesson teach,
When profferring concern as best one can;
He kindly smiled and gestured with his hand,
Inviting me to sit down by his side;
His bony finger pointed to the sand,
A cultured voice reflecting a soft pride –
I had it all once, station, health and wealth,
Delighting in the might of lacking none;
Unmindful what deception spawned by stealth,
The dawn broke with my life laid bare, undone.
Succumb not to the Power of the Purse,
An All-consuming self-inflicted Curse!
©Meanderings 2017
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Autumn Ambles 