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I am a simple prospector panning for a little gold in life
Even one shiny little nugget would do; that I might
attach my value to it as I am of so little worth.
I wake up in the morning with empty pockets;
my spirit damaged by my own misfiled claims.
The Mother Load I’ve always dreamed was there...
escaped.
My tools all worn, my pack mule dead,
I have only the dream left to mine with my aged hands
and a dug out hole of ore to bury me in….
when the Claim Jumper comes to cash me out…
2008 © T S
Ted Sheridan
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