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At first, it was no more
Than a coalescing glint
That caught my roving eye,
Suggesting gold, a meager hint.

As anyone would do,
I knelt near the stream bed,
Attempting to gather bits
The gentle stream had spread.

Gazing up and down from there,
Convinced I was, indeed, alone,
I once more sought out particles
The noontime sun had shown.

Random thoughts panicked me.
This land was not mine.
How was I to remove
Everything that had a shine?

While stumbling from the stream that night,
I spied a sign, weathered and old.
“Labor ye not fruitlessly.
This stream bears but fool’s gold.”


By The_Pip2

© 2019 The_Pip2 (All rights reserved)


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