The Dog Walker

once a girl with golden handcuffs
burdened with too much too soon
she worked hard but large rewards
kept her from a bitter truth

fired from her rich hell
might not have come too soon
she worked hard but truth to tell
death, the exit, fairly loomed

standing still had much to offer
she thought about the gains she’d make
rounded corners make her softer
soft enough to meditate

she does when spirits call her
interrupting clouds of doom
though illuminating poverty
was her favorite form of doom

scraping by has lost its luster
gone the fun of hoarding coins
she breaks the stems of portabellos
making sure the weight is 'loins'

so, she had to face the problem
head on or address the bag
her future address as a lady
a future full of hopeless sad

a job would circumvent the torment
just not one she had to dress for
babysitting had its moment
then, thank god, it soon passed over

no early hours nor looming bosses
just tender breaks and then resume
drinking until evening closes
her first dog is not ‘till noon