Got my backpack brim full As I hike this decline, Into Goldfield at last, Where the gold flows like wine. I'll forget silver strikes, It's now gold that's revered, In the Goldfield ravine, Where the crowds now appeared. I will find branching veins, Teeming thick with gold ore, That would keep mine cars filled And still waiting for more. I may not like the heat, Or my blistering skin, A dry hundred and nine, Listless fever within. Life's exceedingly hard In this hot Goldfield town, I'll be tempted to drink, And loose women, bunk down. I will not let escape, While my confidence wanes, All the riches and dreams I hope Goldfield contains. Population amassed, Thirty thousand or more, But the city's decline Will leave most of them poor. So the lesson is clear, With my Goldfield goodbye, That it's human to strive, Daring risk to comply.
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AuthorJack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. Archives
February 2021
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