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Helen Shanahan
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Finding Gold
Nothing feels right,
nothing's in the perfect place.
Can't sleep all night,
voices whisper in the dark,
I can't them stop,
but I know,
underneath the sand and storm,
my soul shall flower in the rubble,
left out in the cold,
I keep finding gold.
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Morning, half light,
slips in between the window blinds,
wake up to find,
the shadows from the night before,
have all but dissapeared
and I know, underneath the sand and stone,
my soul shall flower in the rubble left out in the cold,
I keep finding gold.
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