AND WHAT DO
YOU MAKE OF GOLD?
I am startled by this, all. I make nothing
of this moment but another time; disaster and
deceit combined. The storybooks tell their stories;
books that weave golden thread. Little Johhny the
Potboil Boy will surely now survive. No sad endings
here. Humble me in my happiness. Golden glow royal
orb. Tuck my crown up someone's place - nip and tuck
and bored. I've nothing to show for this birthday.