by julian   Jan 3, 2018

Of golden eyes,
with a golden hue,
with tears of gold,
it's gold she cries.

In the depths of hell,
her enemies burn alive,
for their sins they pay their toll,
for to harm the Gold is the worst of crimes.

Words she mutters like spilling gold,
like treasure to some and heaven to all,
nothing can stop the Gold not even the coldest of cold,
and may her spirit never break, crack or fall.

The Gold tends to shine so bright,
the brightest bright and the lightest light,
if the Gold were to cease,
we couldn't raise her up and create a lasting world peace.


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments