poems for the young at heart

gold rush:

noise;
it's all we can hear.
but right now,
there's a lot of it.
screams of joy (and fear)
fill my broken ears
joined with blasts
from the heavens.
the blasts are not alone, either.
they come with an accompaniment of sights,
the only things we can see.
red, blue, green, pink.
and, my favorite, gold.
because gold is a meaning of so many things.
wealth, wisdom,
passion, magic.
light.
....
they seem to match his eyes;
too bad he's not here to see them.

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in honor of the fourth of july