Poem - Pauper's Gold

"When the sun slips behind the clouds all the heather turns purple and then, just for a moment, when the sun drops behind the hill, the whole moor turns into a sea of gold.... they call it pauper's gold, because no rich man could ever own such beauty."  

This quote is taken from the 1996 BBC1 adaptation of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë. 

"Pauper's Gold" seemed to me to be such a beautiful and evocative phrase. To represent those treasures that cannot be bought or stolen - the fleeting beauty of a sunrise or sunset perhaps, or freedom, nature, love... 

I have tried to encapsulate some of my thoughts in this short poem. I hope you enjoy it. 


PAUPER'S GOLD

You drift in sunset over hills, 
too soft to call your own.
A shift of colour in the air, 
a hush the wind has blown.
No hand can hold the way you move, 
no hedge can mark your place.
But something lingers in your eyes, 
A trace no wealth could chase.
The light is different where you pass, 
though few folks pause to see.
And what remains is just a sense 
of what was, quietly.
No words can measure what you give.
No grasp will make it stay.
It slips between the moments, 
like the fading of the day.





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Part 2 - Ghost of Christmas Present.

The Day The Mirror Fell.

The Uninvited