Poem: Pure Gold

By: Lynn White

pexels-photo-508428

We were the pure gold people.
The golden generation of
bouncing baby boomers
who had it all,
the best music, the most fun
and the security and optimism
of a golden future.
Now we have had our golden future.
it is done.
Tarnished, cracking up, fragmenting,
turning to sharp dust and black mud.
And ashes, darker still.
We were there at the beginning
of the gold rush.
Now we’re at the end
and we know there will be no more
future.
The gold has melted away.
Only base metal is left
and even that is fragmenting,
turning to sharp dust and black mud.
And darker ashes already
to bury all those golden dreams.

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