After years of hardened days…
and weary nights…
my hands are chaffed and sore…
the water runs straight…
through my aching bones…
This gold-rush seemed an easy game…
then yesterday I hit the mother-load…
today I’m looking down in awe…
in my hands–my golden ore…
ostentatious…
not a chance…
you are the real McCoy…
not fools’ gold…
a solid heart of gold…
you’re glittering in my eyes…
into a sun-soaked honeycombed sky…
you’re a rush, fresh from the river…
the changing of the season…
crashing headlong into my life…
my hibernation’s ended…
more nuggets gather in my pan…
I can’t believe my fortune…
they’re glittering; sparkling…
shinning bright…
they’re dancing in the light…
I see a future growing…
horizons glowing…
my thoughts are now your mine…
and I am yours…
we should not waste this chance……