by Taylor Rogers ’24
Where is my pot of gold?
I walk around the world, hearing the grand stories told,
Stories of new, and stories of old,
All revolving around this mystical pot of gold.
My relatives tell me about their personal treasures,
Bragging to me about these in extreme measures.
When will it be my turn to find this pleasure?
I wonder, how do these people find these treasures?
One day, I stumble along what I think will be a blessing,
And I thank the spirits for my pain lessening.
Finally, I have a pot that might not be depressing.
I open the mystery item, praying for a blessing.
Sadly, my pot of gold has nothing inside,
Reflecting my heart, which has too long been denied.
I have looked everywhere, both in and outside,
Yet this pot is empty, just like my cold insides.
How will I fill this mystery object from above?
Will I fill it with lust, or will I fill it with love?
Now, I can find something that fits in my pot like a glove,
And fulfill the wishes of the creatures above.
Happily, I begin my newest ride,
Ready to find what makes my pot of gold big and wide.
One day, this object will be filled with pride,
And I will have completed my ride.