The neon light glows with steam in the cold winter air.
The seasons bonus comes.
I'll spend it in a day.
Hard earned was the way, my path, my only play.
How did I find the numbers. How do I ever say.
These wallstreet dreams are here to stay.
YOU ARE READING
Wallstreet Dream
PoetryThis will be a series of poems that will be short lived and terrible. Thanks for being part of the ride - E.T.K
