Poor Poet

Just recently, my eldest daughter asked
a question.....
a question from past,
one requiring thought
as to when I was last asked.
She said, "Dad, what did you want to be when you grow up?"
Usually I have an answer without hesitation,
this day she has paused me in thought, and my reply, "You know baby girl I'm not sure I ever really had a particular career or talent that I really wanted to be at least not until high school when I wanted to be a poet/ writer."

I begin telling her a story.
I once told someone I can't recall that I wanted to be a poet,
and laughter ensued my serious decision.
They told me you must then prepare to be poor in life,
I tell my daughter now.......
The provider that Iam is for priorities sake and hers and her sisters;
I truly believed that, what they had said
but to their hyena laughter and shallow ugly standards,
all I ever really could afford
or needed to afford......
was love.