The Miser

By Obed Yadzo and Adja Lilian Koadade -
The Miser
In a hovel of hoarded dreams,
Where shadows dance and dust beams,
A miserly figure, gaunt and gray,
Guards his treasure, night and day.

His eyes, like coins, shine bright and cold,
Reflecting the wealth he's yet to hold,
His heart, a vault, locked tight and strong,
Where love and joy can't linger long.

His fingers, like skeletal branches,
Grasp and clutch with a covetous stance,
The gold and silver, his heart's desire,
A treasure trove, his soul on fire.

But as he sits, amidst his wealth,
A lonely figure, bereft of health,
His riches bring him no delight,
Only a hollow, endless night.

His life, a ledger, tallied and scored,
A balance sheet, where love's not stored,
His legacy, a chest of gold,
But his heart, a tomb, forever cold.

The legend Lilbed writers

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