by Baya Ginsburg

When I was born

I had golden hair

and a golden smile.

I did not cry.

I was golden.

The happiness came

and it stayed for a bit.

It’s always there,

breathed in at birth.

But how long will it stay?

It ebs and it flows

It’s a constant,

never ending.

It keeps us alive

the cycle of life.

The gold started to fade

my hair got dark.

I started to cry

and the tears

were blue.

Happiness drained

faded on to the next.

It found a new home

with someone else.

I was blue.

But somewhere

someone else was sad,

their happy left.

It came back to me,

and lived another life.

The gold came back

the sun in my hair.

It still has some brown

and the tears are still blue

but I am golden.