I suffer from cold fits when I hear of money.

Does a poet need money? Does he understand it?

They ask if I want to sell my house, my car,

how many dollars do I want for them.

I rarely remember wheter they are mine,

or how much had I paid for them, if so.

They do not know how impertinent they are.

Should I value my things, my labor, my time,

or, by chance, my life?

People cannot understand poet’s measures.

Is it possible they do not know that they are

human happiness,

a plain smile

and permanent beauty’s ravishment?

By Edilson Afonso Ferreira.

Published in Right Hand Pointing, issue 78. September 2014

http://www.righthandpointing.net

Published in Every Day Poems, November 27, 2015

http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/

Published in Indiana Voice Journal, May 2016 issue.

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com

Published in The Basil O’Flaherty, July 2016 issue

http://www.thebasiloflaherty.weebly.com