A tale of two cities David Cattanach

David Cattanach

A Tale of two cities

Marble columns, high grade fascias, marks the street where wealth resides. Modern concrete blast, without window freesias, marks where the poor stalk. So to our pocket some might balk. But too right they would not talk for each world was a stranger to the other.

Even at the market counter there is a feverish hand, we cannot avoid to notice among the bastard brands. Those that can add wealth at random, by an accident of the kingdom. wait with fear for expected cure.

Efforts press the heart many suffer, emotions run through the body to the mind causing a faint tick in the thoughts of the bluffer. It is said the heart grows fonder but for some it is a bind for their passion cannot be bound, striking out when they are constrained by keys. Wealth passes by unconcerned with unseeing eyes.

Privilege is marked by secluded access not the open stall of table-top wares. In secret vaults everything is excess, those with not much are weary at supper, even best laid plans can be subject to rupture. To wander forever is the scripture but not everyone has to hold up the cross.