King Midas groaned at the thought of another day
Where his food would be limited to two swimming pools
All his victuals in scarcity
All his sustenance hoarded
Everything he touched
He loved so very much
But contact is so distant
Is there value in a push?
King Midas saw his little girl.
A valuable soul.
He let a bach’lor hold her hand.
By the sandy knoll.
King Midas cured of his ills
He wrote some meals within his will
For greed it is unfortunate
And the gilded letter knocks you out.