Prices are rising: A poem 

Prices are rising like a tide 

two-fold and even three-fold 

I am downsizing long and wide 

My purchases are no longer bold 

My wallet feels helpless at the stores 

And my needs are wanting and crestfallen 

Money gets much less than before 

Inflation’s beast is wildly appalling 

Poverty is a very questionable breach 

of civilisation’s vainglorious speech 

For politicians, it is a mere pitch 

It is a forgettable abstract for the rich 

But in my anxiety, I am not destitute 

There are many who go without food 

I can sport little warm kindred feelings 

With the knowledge that empathy has no ceiling 

So, I will not shy or hesitate to greet 

every desperate beggar on the street