Spinning gold

 Days full of laughter and fun

like endless golden sunshine

or a cheery dandelion.

The height of summer;

the florets withered,

some blown away by the wind, 

some I plucked

brutally

with the thoughtlessness of

one who has known no loss.

The gossamer remained.

I could not hold it,

watched 

helpless

as it floated

afar

in the gentlest breeze.

Now

days

stretch ahead

empty

long.

I stare

into the bare kernel

hopefully pluck

into the pores

search

for something

for some meaning

some straw 

to build myself

to clear the cobwebs from my heart

to spin gold from straw.

Poonam/August 20 (first version June19)