Sonnet: International Workers Day

The toiler toils unceasingly all life; The pittance earned can't take care of family; He turns a debtor very soon in strife; He ekes a living still quite peacefully. The tiller tills the soil in sun and rain; By sweat of brow, he raises crops to eat; But crafty world prevents him from due gain; He dies in poverty and walks bare-feet. The businessman is piling sums in banks; His life is spent in luxury, comfort; He gets kick-backs and joins band of think-tanks; But wealth turns weakness and is not his forte. The corrupt rich are fleecing poor with zest, Ignoring use of God's talents to best. Happy May Day,2017 Copyright by dr John Celes 01-05-2017