gold standard
Leave a commentMarch 27 by The Running Son
gold standard
read a poem once that claimed
that nothing gold can stay.
how moments of sweet victory
drift off and wash awayfrom me. how infants eyes
slow change, blue to grey
or amber-green,
blue and pristine to the hazyjitterlock we graduate to
in the post aftershock
of first punishments. How we spank
our blue eyes blank. rush inso damn fast, bustin ankles.
last to claim responsibility
but first to take credit. how we bank
on our investments,and treat them like debit.
by Jim Aldrich (:
©2013 JimAldrich
☀ ☁
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.