Jo Bien Poet Classicism

Pot of Gold

I am sure that there are reasons
that you don't love me like you could
some of them are just plain lame
some of them may be good

the lines that you cast out
won't float upon the water
nary a fish will you catch
but you can't be bothered

it's all about the giving out
not about any return
like the Phoenix of long ago
eventually you crash and burn

your legs are tired and you're weary
from the mountains that you climb
you've spent it all on souvenirs
you're down to your last dime

I may not tell this story right
but at least my side gets told
while you were chasing rainbows
you passed up the pot of gold

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