Prospectors of Old
As appearing in The Gold Nugget, November 1998
A poem by Gary Hawley

I've roamed the hills,
Like prospectors of old,
And searched the canyons
For the metal called gold.
I've stood where they stood
And dug in their streams.
In the middle of my slumber,
I even shared their dreams
Of striking it rich.
The mother lode I'll find,
Or at least a big nugget
(One of a kind).
I know they are out there,
Nuggets by the pound
Just patiently waiting
For me to dig them out of the ground
And clean them up
In my plastic gold pan,
So I can show them at a meeting
To every child, woman, and man,
Then brag of my prowess
At finding the gold--
Just like was done
By the propectors of old.

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© 1998 Gold Prospectors of the Rockies