Squaring Circles

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

Squaring circles, trying to make ends meet
Snatching success, from the jaws of defeat
Uphill battles, on a downward slope
Treading water, struggling to cope

Cutting costs, tightening your belt
To your knees, you dropped and knelt
Worry after worry, knowing you’re unable
To feed the children, put proper food on the table

Priorities picked, luxuries no more
Survival for you, becomes the main chore
The clothing for the children, is all second hand
Food is all basic, not one single brand

The bill it arrives, in the brown envelope
Not too high, you pray and hope
With caution you open, you hold your breath
The difference of life, and the door of death

But you have no debts, of that you are sure
There are no nerves, when someone knocks at the door
The children are happy, although in a simple world
As they sleep at night, in their duvet curled

You’ve lived within your means, and did balance the book
Because there were plenty of Indians, but only one cook
Drinking a cup of tea, you looked at the floor
There lay a pound coin, by the kitchen door

You pursed your lips, and hummed to yourself
Could this be, the passport to wealth
Buying a lottery ticket, you just did wonder
Would lightening strike, would there be thunder

The draw took place, on the Saturday night
Couldn’t look at your ticket, so full of fright
But if you didn’t look, you wouldn’t know if you’d won
So you checked the numbers, one by one

You got the first one, number twenty-three
Laughed to yourself, have a party
The second fell in, number fifteen
The first two were right, now you were keen

The third one dropped, on it’s own number seven
Now you were dreaming, halfway to heaven
The fourth it came, number thirty-four
You almost froze, only needed two more

The fifth one spun, it was number nine
This was where water, could turn to wine
The sixth one emerged, you were gripped with fear
Would boom take over, or would bust appear

The sixth number, was number three
If you had picked that, you’d be poverty free
But you had five numbers, this was strong hard cash
No longer for dinner, was it sausage and mash

Although this story, didn’t quite turn out how we wanted
The issue of poverty, was duly confronted
Where a hard up mother, put her children first
While striving for the best, always feared the worst

She found that pound, and with the maddest idea
Bought a lottery ticket, from Brighton Pier
When her numbers came up, albeit just five
She really deserved it, and it helped them survive

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