Golden

The days I hold so dear
were once days that seemed rooted
and long... with little wind on my face...

but now that I am older,
maybe not wiser,
I realize that those days
are edged in gold and live there
in my heart...

running through grass in bare feet
watching clouds sail overhead
looking for stars that fall at twilight

The faded photographs
in my mind's eye
are worth more than the finest oil paintings
secured in museums.

Golden

Sherrie