Golden

There is gold, there is solid gold,
That warns and is proud of itself.
I am shining with love at this metal,
A great implement, a wonderful weapon
That never dies, nor does it brighten
To our eyes, like the light as it grows.
The sun is golden, forming weather
And leaving us at the end to hot feeling.
Gold may strive for more, but our Sun
Is more golden than gold.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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