A Pauper’s Eyes

Piercing the plastic

Visa card lives

the Pauper of the Spirit

sees through


Beyond the chip on the shoulder

and the PIN in the heart

a parsimony of words

is all that he speaks


Each tadpole tale

which he tells

turns into princes

which add that little

… … ad astra to life


At his club

there is plenty for all

the diners and the,

life is tough whiners


All the tributaries of the Amazon

can’t fill his brook

no horizon can hold

where his gaze might amaze


All the express trains

aren’t fast enough

and TGV tantrums

wash off his back


The Pauper has zero

on a rare golden chain

and no-one can take this

for they can’t see where


On the balcony of hope

he sings serenades

and purses his drawstring

to capture the air


Sharp as a diamond

still carrying his flaws

he sees all the letters

which fetter and blind


And thanks to that poker

which put greed out his eyes

he understands more

and has no time, for whys


A meagre used penny

will rattle his tin

he knows you are right

he feels it within


He hears what you say

as you hurry and fret

perhaps you might own him

your own little pet


Buy him some raiment

and a new pair of socks

shave off his beard

and free him from stocks


Take him to sanctuary

where your charity pays

at last you have taught

the error of his ways


Safe in your semi-detached

proud to be normal you sleep with the wife

snuggled and comfy

most sure and content with all of  your life


But could you really look deep into his Soul for more than a second?