Maryhill Way

Maryhill Way by Diana Yvonne Mejia

Long was the morn I wandered, walking down Maryhill way
At the crossroad sat a beggar, waggling a little tin tray
She sat cross legged, cradling a child, in listless silence she craned a smile,
Shuddering and uttering, have you a dime?
Maybe she thought with some luck, pity could charm me enough,
And captured I was, but I hadn’t the time, as my pockets were as bare as her sockets, and her
sockets were as empty as mine.
So in my complexion I rid myself of felicity,
Not to make ourselves connected by necessity,
But a common enemy that is misfortune,
Of living in this world
I like to imagine that luck is a matter of human stupidity, to pin all problems on the lack of
serendipity,
But the more I ponder on the prospect of prosperity, I see that for many, the mere thought is an
irregularity
They adhere to the old adage, that money makes the world go round, so those who have it are
at advantage,
And those who lack it will never be sound.
Sometimes it takes a twist of fate, some person, some item ornate, something shiny that could
perhaps irradicate, the rattlesnake of this trial,
That way time on this earth can quickly beguile,
And I will never again have to contemplate,
Have you a dime.

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