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Material World
 
Who counts a man's possessions
when his life is done and spent
but his heirs who, looking puzzled,
wonder where his fortunes went.

The richest of all humans,
unconcerned what he may own,
bows not before material wealth
nor casts condemnation's stone.

Virtue is its own reward...
no rats nor mould find where it's stored.






By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 
This poem was written for the Ten Word Challenge,
10/10 Week*

This week's words:

Harvest - Equinox - Acorn - Foliage - Branches - Hues - Migration
- Growth - Frost - Gourd


* 10/10 Week - all ten words must be used in only ten
lines of verse.




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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Ten Word - Double Choice Week (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Ten Word - Double Choice Week (challenge has been closed)


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