Money worries over, my pen writes,
when I win the one hundred nineteen
million dollars a number fixed in my brain
that will mean my money worries are over
a party thrown in the house soon
to be fixed up better than new
no way anymore for the rain to creep in
and drip drip drip in yet another new place
the grey cloud of unease replaced
by the cozy knowing that I and we
are warm and dry inside our sturdy home
unassailed by torrents or only sprinkles
of rain that fall and isn’t it funny
how a person contemplating a windfall of
one hundred nineteen million dollars
thinks firstly and lastly of something like
a roof that no longer leaks not
a convertible car
transAtlantic cruise
second home in the south of France
but only the luxurious thing of staying
cozy and dry while looking out the
windows at a romantic thunderstorm?