Gold.

I lay with my hands…
Silently floating..
A pearl of precious thought,
An acorn of my youth.

A nicety of awakening,
The dream is still alive,
I'm fresh, and new.
My spirit exalts a neighbor.

Many, many men will come,
Many more will follow.
Down some old, dusty shore,
To bear the name of Gold.

But I will be here, and never regret.
The price I've been given for my
Pearl of precious thought.
On a street named Gold.

Copyright 2001 Justin Hawley.