Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Wall Street to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
My grandmother kept a jar marked for the days when rain would fall,
And she fed it every Friday, even when the coins were small.
The neighbours spent their extras on the parties and the show,
But she smiled and kept on filling it and let the jar grow slow.
Then the winter brought a sickness and the factory closed its gate,
And the neighbours knocked on doors for help, but help had come too late.
She opened up her rainy jar and paid the doctor's bill,
And she bought the bread for Sunday with a little left there still.
She shared it with the neighbours, for the rain had found them too,
And the jar that seemed so foolish was the shelter they came through.
So keep a jar for rainy days, and feed it when it's sunny,
For an umbrella made of patience is the wisest use of money.
Poet of Wall Street · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
A grandmother's jar of coins looks foolish in good times and becomes a lifeline when hard times arrive.
Grandmother kept “a jar marked for the days when rain would fall” and fed it “every Friday, even when the coins were small.” Neighbours spent “on the parties and the show,” while she “let the jar grow slow.”
When “the winter brought a sickness and the factory closed its gate,” she “paid the doctor's bill” and bought “the bread for Sunday.” She shared with the neighbours, and “the jar that seemed so foolish was the shelter they came through.”