Storybook fables give gold a rich luster
that loses its brilliance with closer inspection.
Colors of leaves in autumn’s bright showcase
can make my heart race and fill me with wonder.
But the gold doesn’t last,
(like the red and the yellow)
and all become compost that cries for attention,
a layer of brown on
my once perfect lawn.
Brushstrokes of gold in the beauty of sunsets
thrill me with wonder of artful design.
But in minutes the sun, the source of the treasure,
continues its journey below the horizon,
and the gold of the sunset becomes
evening, then night.
Wherever I look I see gold effervescing,
first calling attention to brightness and bounty
but losing its beauty as time moves along.
So, counting my wealth in the color of gold,
I've learned that, while pretty, its luster will fade.
Though I thrill to its beauty, I know that real wealth
is the love that we share in a world full of wonder,
and that gold is a color,
nothing more, nothing less.
Tell it like it is, fantastic, you said it right brother, Gold is nothing more than a color. It's the love and companion of good people that we share our friendships with. Melvina
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful writing thanks Ken.