All That Glitters... Poem by Clark Dark

Prospecting for gold
there’s a flash in my pan.
It glints, I gladden, it glitters...
portentously.

Still yet convinced
I question, are you real,
or do you merely mimic
the end at my rainbow.

Enchantingly, you retort.
Are you not a prospector?
Does not my sheen
or your erection inform you.

I am at odds.
You have the presence
of gold, yet I know of pyrite.
Just never knew,

how to distinguish between the two.