When our way is littered with the wealth of ‘having had’
And the wind turns bitter where the sun glittered, warm-gold
Then we look around us for new reasons to be glad
Hunting for the treasure that only the heart can hold
Life is like a teacher and a preacher and a thief
We are always not too old to master something new
Nobody outgrows the reaches of gladness or grief
As we dig for treasure where time’s dust and trust runs
through
Happiness is not a goal, but takes us by surprise
Right in the middle of a little kerfuffle with ‘no’
It gobsmacks us on the back or startles hungry sighs
With treasures we trampled on until steps had to slow
Nothing is for nothing if we first choose hope and love
Opportunity is often dressed in common guise
We are all prospectors standing on a teeming trove
Where we will find treasure if we open up our eyes
© Janet Martin
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