Pouring molten metal
Into golden moulds-

counterfeit value

This is how gold
Blinds the eye.

Hoard in a wood-yard
To build a better future-

This is how time
Tricks the mind

Tomorrow is
nebulous at best.
A dream of one
who still sleeps.
You are alive now.
Awake in this fresh
green world.
In the planning, we
forget to live.

Ask the mice and men
how plans go.
There are traps and
trivialities that keep
you from carrying on.
Funny things happen on
the way to the bank.
My mom died while
grocery shopping.

Today, peers back at
you from the mirror.
Breath and heartbeat.
Desire and passion.
No one survives this
story.
You're the author and the
protagonist, write it
well.

When we first moved in,
The landowner said that
The old crabapple tree in
The yard hasn't yielded
Its fruit for many a year.

The executioner was going
To end its life, but we
Convinced the judge to
Grant a stay of execution
Regarding the beheading
So we could make a valiant
Effort at rehabilitating
The desolate old soul.

All because of a last minute
Reprieve, that unproductive
Tree has been rejuvenated
And regenerated; once
Again bearing fruit for
Many a year for us to eat
And share with others.