Thoughts

If thoughts were gold, I’d be a millionaire
Yet I’m so poor my thoughts must all be lead
But thoughts are not a currency to share
I learned that thoughts accompany the dead
And still I’ll pay the ferryman his due
With gold beyond whatever’s in my mind
Regardless, if my thoughts are false or true
I see my thoughts although I know I’m blind
I hate to think of thoughts as simply words
They’re more than any words I speak or write
I watch them soar above like regal birds
They may not choose to land, and yet they might
My thoughts are metaphoric birds of gold
They circle me until my story’s told