Gold Bricks Old

Three were made of gold,
In a story time told
Him, as he dusted memory’s painting…

Once upon Economic Times,
A couple rising would find,
Streaming window light, shares price,
Water sprinkled faces and skin –
All oozing golden.
He laughed recalling how narrowed her eyes
At the drift of words in pink,
At the mental effort to make all sink.

Now time has shown
That stocks and skin
Mean little to nothing
But the memorial paintings they hold
Are indeed made of gold…
To be preserved until old.

– Bolbul

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