Golden are her tawny tresses,
Golden are her thoughts of late;
Gold her dreams of greener dresses –
Dipped in gold, her dreams await
Days of golden-sunshined splendour,
Tucked neath golden afternoons;
Patient, she will guard her golden
Songs as hope sings gilded tunes.
Those days will come –
and then they’ll go,
with notable precision;
The rain will fall,
the wind will blow,
destroy what you envision.
But soon the sky
will tire of tears,
her raindrops’ stores depleted;
the sun will glow
with cheer once more,
and gloom will be defeated.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 