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A Golden Age Gone
June 11, 2009
I’m fearful that my golden age has come and past
And the fruits of my labor have turned spoiled and haven’t last.
I cringe at the thought of becoming the ruins of what was.
I know from fortunes tree I’ve had my fair share of plucks
But now I tread a path riddled with keys that don’t harbor any luck.
And I realize that my saccharine smile shadows nothing.
I had hastily drained the wishing wells of their glimmer
Their waters and my outcome prove bleak and even dimmer
But, still, I find myself tossing in my tiny tokens of hope.
© Jacob W., Oklahoma City, OK
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