The Poor Can Also Rise And Shine Poem by Krisztian Fercsek

The poor can also rise and shine,
With dreams and hopes that intertwine.
But this world, often claims the weak,
The rich build walls—so cold, so bleak.

The poor hold hands, but drag each other down,
Reflecting struggles in a world that wears a frown.
Cursing overlaps with a heavy hate,
Lost is the love, as we navigate.

We watch the old man till his land,
Harvests bountiful, his fields so grand.
When he needs meat, he takes his axe,
A cycle of life, that's how he acts.

His vat is full of grapes divine,
His sweetest wine, the finest line.
With open arms, he greets us near,
Yet we're not kin—just friends, it's clear.

He pours his wine, proud of the toil,
Gives us fruit from his rich soil.