Without A Spoon

Without a silver spoon I was born,
I toiled under the sun to obtain one,
All I could get was a wooden spoon,
That served me for a while and broke so soon.

I started the rat race all over again,
People thought I was going insane,
I continued to strive without restrain,
And fate was kind to me again.

The end result is a golden spoon,
I can even buy a home in the moon,
Those who looked at me with disdain,
No longer consider me insane.

by Frank Adie

Comments (1)

The hustle and bustle of life! ! Hope still lies ahead of you. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.