A Poem by the tipsy writer

I would ask my mother many questions

In retrospect compared to my life lived currently.

When my friends buy fancy meats from the butcher shop

And I still budget for tax at the store.

Mother, would you change anything for a piece of life,

If it cost an extra dollar?

Saving. Saving. Saving.

Was my father’s mantra;

Back in the recession,

I heard him say,

“The economy’s heading to hell in hand basket,”

But I was upset I couldn’t get M magazine,

Upset I couldn’t wear Abercrombie.

Father, would you say the same,

If you knew what life lay ahead,

Dead at 55, recently retired?

I was instilled with frugality;

But I left it back home.

As a I throw away dollar after dollar

To whatever makes me happy.

But does it?


I’ve listened to many podcasts;

Get it in my head…

Save. Save. Save.

Retire early. Enjoy life.

…But only in the future.

What makes me happy?

Instant gratification has something going for it, honestly.

Especially when long-term isn’t always promised.

Father taught me that-

Not in life, but death.

So I’ll try detaching value to money,

Unlike they’ve always done.

Place my life value in sunrises, sunsets, and cups of coffee.

I want to be happy.

For real, not just now.

So I’ll count my dollars

And save for whatever counts.

© 2022 the tipsy writer

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Added on March 9, 2022
Last Updated on March 9, 2022


the tipsy writer
the tipsy writer


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