We wonder about whether to pursue the gold, giv’n to many of us as our birthright.
What of the cost, where ought we place it for safekeeping?
Sometimes wisdom begs, shouldn’t we be satisfied with silver?
Eureka! I thought this morning so loud you surely heard me.
Is the gold we claim our own? Increasingly we learn…it’s all somebody else’s alloy. An alchemist had been before us. Pouring trickery, then pulling heartstrings.
I, myself, thank the illusionist for that sweetest Summer. Warm, golden, nothing but refreshing theory. I laugh now and see the moving, invisible hand.
Take we back our minds and hearts. Go forth to the drivers seat, the miner’s pick-ax in hand. Seek silver!
With a curious morose
They look at you
As if seeing a long-faded flower
They take pains to not stare
Lest you see pity in their eyes
With a melancholy kindness
They are polite
As if you are fragile
They gently do not linger
Lest their affection break your brittle bones
Laugh with me
Help me grow old
Ease me with tales of your gold
Tell me the story of each piece of silver
Their meaning each treasure to you
Laugh with me
Help me embrace
The glitter life’s splayed ‘cross my face
Tell me you’ll seek me, need me, keep me
As we walk in our soul’s shoes
The future I see
Blue-green against the silver
The gratitude years
Eyes framed with silver
Skin the color of honey
Sandals on his feet
Fueled onward by true-blue love
And Big Bird yellow