So lives a woman now
in the throes of vacillation
not weightless but yet floating
in the air of indecision.
She balances a moment - just
on thermal waves of money lust
but like a brick plummets to earth
and crash lands in the summer lands
of soul's innate desire.
The air screams, "Money, money"
and she knows to humbly bow
but how the back stiffens up
and she becomes immobile
stuck like a stalwart
defender of herself.
She throws the dice; no hearts but spades
to dig an early grave
and bury all her needs, desires,
in a cold unfeeling place.
So shuffles she from rich to poor
like a woman born to swivel
until an "Ah-Ha" moment
changes her lifestyle
and brings from smart the casual
designer wear of soul.
Money! Money! Money!
She's deaf though, don't you know?
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