Hoards In Sorrow

If I 'have' whatever it is to give.
And you 'have' but to give not!
Which one of us eventually,
Can claim to have more?
Of whatever it is!

Which one of us has resources,
From which that has been given...
Will always be restored?
And which one of us hoards in sorrow?
Peeking from behind windows.
And through cracks of doors.
Fearing...
And in tears!

I'll give you a clue.
Why are you wiping dust,
Off of past accolades!
And I am happy...
Knowing I have not a cent,
In my pocket!