Forgotten

Forgotten
and forlorn,
since the day,
I was born.

Coming into this world,
back in my day,
was being born and
delivered on the dining
room table, by a midwife.

Humble beginnings,
no money for play,
but warmth and comfort,
was there every day.

The depression was
hard on all around,
yet they toiled at work,
if it could be found.

Not much money,
you could hear them say,
when a good wage, could
be a dollar a day.

Pay yourself first
was the rave,
a hard thing to do,
trying to save.