Molten Poetry

Let it burn.

The lights, brightly
beamed from the heavens,
or so it seemed.

I recalled the lore
of old, a reminder
for the bold
seekers of others’
gold.

The Elders
told me where to find
my riches, at the
end of a rainbow line.

I laid in wait,
10 days, patient,
for chance to take
that other’s gold
and make it mine.

When the time was right,
I slipped into the dark,
into the night,
and swiped away
the cauldron, keeping.

It was light…

I then realized
that the distant laughter
of that damned trickster,
was at my expense,
empty pockets and all.


©️ 2018.

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