Every time I think about writers, and being a writer, I imagine wadded up sheets of paper in a trash can, notes stuffed away in some little cubby-hole just waiting to be taken out of the trash can, straightened out and reworked or the surprise to find that one note I was looking for.

In today’s age, for me at least, I was surprised to find this little tidbit I had written a couple of months ago stuck in my electronic notes on my phone … along with many other thoughts and lines unfinished — I guess they are just sitting there for my mind to catch up.

This piece was just words flowing though my head at the time.

Essence of Gold

There was a man
He gave you his bleeding heart
You held it in your hand
He poured in his soul
It shined pure liquid gold

Minutes and seconds tick by
Each day’s struggle
Taking toll
Essence leaking through fingers
All he was
His heart of liquid gold