on golden

I can’t point to a moment

put my finger on the spot

the where when why or how

it all stopped

the golden times ended

I thought

better felt

before then

everything I touched

was part of felt golden

the best times high times

friends lovers life

as one happening

fun event great party

nothing could go wrong

was out of reach or touch

& all was good in my world

& the end if it came at all

was slow inexorable soft

now everything needed effort

to push against decline


the years I lived slept

autumn beginning of winter

to the rising tone of the trees

above me on my green hill

the wind whipping through

a gentle roar that never grew

to a full howl or decline

until the snows came

bringing their hush

stoppage to the day

the wind the dark night

all now in half light or blind glare

foot paw prints that appeared


of white ghosts gone to sleep