Carty Three

On the Spring tide, you look to the poor, huddled in line, it's cold for the season, sons and daughters, share the same reason, on the starboard side, a bitter truth’s sought, don't need an inquiry, to shiver in the lee, what's left at the port, sick of being, to worry about time, being caught, in some policy drive, what it teaches, to head for the door, like a guilty plea, every walk of life, ends with nought, some seek the light, others the law.