Hollow Riches

This morning's balance, a number that glows,

like glittering fools gold, a lure that bestows.

I bought celebration, a bottle, a cheer,

but the buzz in my chest seems too thin, too clear.

An envelope slid in, a cruel little jest,

and I’m left here counting the coins in my chest.

The crinkle of paper, it slides through my grip,

smooth promise of wealth, yet I’m still on this trip.