Silver Spoons

The loss of our jobs has made us soft with caring.
It has humbled our tongues
and taught us to ask
how are you today?
in the places where frustrations/silence/deadlines used to lie.
The new woman at work asks me what my plan is,
if i have a plan, i laugh and say i have no plan.
My parents are my plan.
I will go back to them and leech onto their success.
What will you do?
She looks down and murmurs
i cannot go back to my parents empty handed.
I am their success.
I think i wear my privilege a bit too loudly on some days.
I forget we do not all come from milk and honey,
silver spoons and golden eggs.