Precious Gold Poem by Mark Heathcote

What is gold but the fruit of suns long gone?
They're the nuggets of stars that have shone.
Aeons passed into their own, nightfall.
Have smelted away, into this little haul.
Beautiful how frightfully precious how small
These bands of love bound together with all.
Placed-on a book, worn with oaths bygone.
Here now, never to fade but to shine hereon.
Forever, and forever, until death do we part
Or fall-down into that black hole, quick smart.