Sonnet

Rich Dad, Poor Dad

My father brought a guest and homeward drove,
To see two nine-year old boys in the drive,
With lines of full-speed labor we then strove,
And fine white powder seemed to coat and dive.
On long school tables, milk cartons we laid,
And glowing grill was red-hot with its coals,
As Dad parked cautiously, his gaze was stayed
On toothpaste tubes in pots like burning bowls.
"What are you doing boys?" my dad ordered.
"We do what you have taught," was my reply.
"And what are those plaster moulds, he countered?"
"We cast our nickels, sir, to multiply.
.   "The middle class and poor for money toil",
.   "The rich make money slave to dig more soil".


2026.05.26