The Gold-Painter
Would you let me have a look?In that old brown backpack
That's weighing on your shoulders
Maybe I'll find gold for you
Would you let me take out the gold?
And show it to your weary eyes
And by that motion of joy
Make your pack a little lighter
While you consume the golden days
I'll be diving into your backpack
And whatever looks like darkness
Will hang on to my glue-covered self
Yes, I will take the dark days
And put them through a sawmill
I'll grind them down to nothing
And flush them in the sea
When you once again feel heavy
And need to see the gold shine
Just, run down to my mansion
And I'll defeat your cold
Broken by your own pack
You'll never be on my watch
Come, join me in my lifestyle
And paint a golden age
Yes, I will take the dark days
And put them through a sawmill
I'll grind them down to nothing
And flush them in the sea
Poetry by Cr4Ky
Read 786 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2008-12-01 at 21:32
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Editorial Team |
liz munro |
Kathy Lockhart |
Texts |
by Cr4Ky Latest textsPoes PenStar-struck When there are only two ways to go A pig in the Lounge Bring A Shovel My favoritesRain[My tears] Only the dark shall see |
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