Gold

Glimmering gold polish,
that shimmers under the sun,
chips and cracks
revealing patches of cold iron.

It is steely and stiff;
cold and unmoving.
The iron needs to be repainted
and repainted again for viewing.

The golden warmth of joy
the metallic taste of strength,
God gave Gold a rope
that was the perfect hanging length.

Where is he now,
the Great God of Old?
Where is he now,
for our suffering, chipping Gold?

Why let it chip and break,
or even keep up its mask?
Why not let it end its suffering,
is that too much to ask?

Golden yellow happiness,
steely grey sorrow,
Repainted the cracking gold,
repaint the strength for tomorrow