Yesterday, dread settled on me
like a roof of sorrow.
I counted my money
though I already knew what was there.
“It isn’t enough,” I moaned to the roof.
And the roof agreed, “It isn’t enough.”
All day my mind belabored the lament
until it sounded like truth.
Sleep was late coming.
But when I woke to the sounds I love
and the place I love
with sunrise blowing through the curtains
like a promise,
the roof was laughing.
“There’s more than enough,” it said.
“There’s so much more than enough.”
And I saw with blinding clarity
that money is only a thought,
the abundance or lack a mere idea
with which I can choose to torment
or bless myself.
*
Sherry Bronson 12/19/2014
writing for self-discovery 
Dec 28, 2014 @ 20:04:12
Loved this! Love K
Sent from Samsung Mobile
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Dec 29, 2014 @ 04:12:47
I’m missing our writers’ group. I’m glad we have one coming up first thing in January. Thanks for loving my poem!
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Dec 29, 2014 @ 01:37:41
Money can be the luxury of being a thought when there is enough to cover the necessities, but it is different kind of reality when that is not so.
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Dec 29, 2014 @ 06:26:29
I wonder how much of our reality is based upon the way we think.
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