His presence offered
Something

Something I needed
but had no name for

Not sure I even do now
But there it was

Counterfeit
But close enough for a boy
who didnít know the difference

When it was gone it left a hole
I have spent decades trying to fill

Looking for the counterfeit
Hoarding Foolís Gold
Because I cannot recognize
The real thing

Dismayed at its lack of value
And ability to fill that hole

Trying many variations
But Foolís Gold will never be Gold

Gold has no substitute
Something may attract the eye

Something may be offered
Or forced and still the hole is there

Waiting for something


R