Crumbs Leftover

Every dime I find to claim,
Will be mine...
In the playing of today' game.

Sharing to give pieces of it away,
Had been a possibility 'yesterday'.
But the hours spent giving,
In those gift giving days...
Seems to have disappeared,
With the greeting of others...
With the showing of respect!

By no means am I greedy.
Or centered with a fixed selfishness.
I've learned to adopt survivalistic instincts.
And myself I will not neglect.

Every dime I find to claim,
Will be mine...
In the playing of today' game.

Today many observe a penny earned is worthless.
When a saving of them,
Will not end one's craving...
For a slice of buttered bread.
Or crumbs leftover to throw to birds,
Heard chirping while being fed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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