The Gold Comes Back

These parodies of Frost’s poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” ( were triggered, respectively, by a gorgeous recent sunset, autumn travels when the leaves are turning, and an octogenarian friend’s training regimen for this year’s upcoming Senior Games. Perhaps references to returning gold are appropriate on this income tax day…

West-facing terrace, friends,
Chat as sunlight ends.
The sky with clouds afloat—
We glance, horizon boasts
A slowly spreading flame:
The sunset’s glorious game.
Though dawn’s fresh dew we lack,
At evening, the gold comes back.

As waning days grew short
We ventured forth in search
Of fall’s vibrancy.
Gingko, maple, aspen
Showed off their undies then
In varied amber hues,
Unleafing in technicolor:
Red, orange, yellow–at autumn gold’s return.

In spring an old man’s fancy
Turns to fitness.
Off with the long underwear!
On with the jogging shorts.
The gym membership card
Gets found and dusted off.
No longer youth’s brassy bronze
Or hair’s silvering—at 80, aim for the gold!




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