I search for my El Dorado at last.
It is said the streets there lead to a treasure.
And only a dream can tell of its measure.
My time to be bold and brash is long past,
for my search for the city started late.
So time is short and my hunt must be brief.
Its jungle path hides, and is fraught with grief
but lack of time has not deterred my fate.
The city is there I am sure, my nights
are filled with visions of gold temples tall.
I am drawn by the gleaming metal's call.
But the gold is always beyond my sight.
For El Dorado is but a dream,
of things believed but are not what they seem.
- Author: George (My real name) (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: June 27th, 2022 07:18
- Comment from author about the poem: We all need an El Dorado to keep our hope alive.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
Comments1
enjoyed your poem, it was a lovely read also nicely penned
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