Lost
Lost
My golden earring is lost, gone.
A symbol of my working past
Sophisticated, young.
Days of suits, neck bows;
Dressing for success;
Simple, professional.
The times of being a part of happening things,
The rush of keyboards and telephone rings,
Passed, oh, so fast.
Now jeans and sweats in silence,
Only the roar of other’s commute;
Goodbye, golden earring.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2016
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