RICH MAN EATS THE POOR MAN’S HEART

RICH MAN EATS THE POOR MAN’S HEART

The rich man sat at a silver plate,
While the poor man waited beside the gate,
His shoes had holes, his coat was thin,
But still they would not let him in.

The rich man ate from a golden spoon,
He ate all morning, night and noon,
Yet nothing filled that empty part,
So he asked to eat the poor man’s heart.

The poor man said, “There’s little there,
Just broken dreams and years of care,
A bit of love my mother gave,
And one small hope I tried to save.”

The rich man laughed and raised his knife,
“I’ve bought most things throughout my life,
I own the earth, the sky, the sea,
So surely your heart belongs to me.”

He ate the kindness, ate the pain,
He ate the walks home in the rain,
He ate the songs the poor man knew,
And every little dream he grew.

But when the final bite was done,
The rich man found he had not won,
His gold went cold, his mansion cried,
And something human in him died.

The poor man fell beside the gate,
A victim of another’s greed and hate,
Yet from the place his heart had been,
A tiny scarlet flower was seen.

It climbed the walls and cracked the stone,
It covered everything he owned,
For hearts may break and bodies part,
But love grows back from a poor man’s heart.