Silver and Dirt

A Poem by Wem Ortiz

4 years 6 months and 24 days Sonnet II

Born with a silver spoon, my lady was blessed with gold.
I was born with dirt and in dirt I was raised.
She bare in grace of what she holds.
I have nothing at all, but hopes and fate.

Unaware, we cross our paths in unexpected time.
Oh that touches’ she made and smiles we shared.
The gladness of having her was pride of mine.
As we adore in hopes, tomorrow? We simply less cared.

although she was torn between what she feels and respect, she must choose
between the ones who raised her or the one she loves
I was blinded with work, she decided with no clues
she stopped the beat , she have set the gap.

and from it we shall start again, I was raised in dirt, and hopes of growing soon
I was stab with a silver stake and she was born with a silver spoon