Too many failed attempts at Beauty, nothing
to declare, but waste.
A family on a mortgage with little left for food.
How can he live on earth with so little reserve cash?
How can he look at his half starve wife and children?
To be, to be without living in a rat-infested house,
all those glittering glass plates with no food to fill it.
Connoisseurs want sheets and surfaces never unfolding the truth.
However, this time further east, with feeling, hope and respect.
What is the sum of 8 and 9:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.