Would you only,
Know a sunrise,
If it’s golden tones,
Were real nuggets,
Of gold?
Or a rainbow,
If it’s green hues,
Were cold, hard,
Dollar bills?
And if a thousand,
Sand dollars,
Were strewn,
Across the beach,
Glistening in the sun,
Like silver;
Would they need to be,
Susan B. Anthony,
To catch your eye?
The worth,
Of the stars,
The sky,
And the sea,
Is unknown,
To one,
Who’s heart is a sieve;
Merely panning the horizon,
For some “choice”commodity.
Surmising the only thing,
Of value (in the world),
Is that which,
Can be bought and sold,
Sieves out,
All the beauty,
Wonder and awe,
From my brain,
Replacing it instead…
With frozen little chunks of empty lies,
A life of real worth, devoid.
-Gilda Patricia
gildaspoems 