Thursday, February 23, 2017

Keepsake



 




I long to touch,
I am awed to touch-
Those bangles,
Lambent and engraved,
Encrusted in gold and red-rimmed;
Sparkling,
But not like many years ago
When they twirled, clinked and lived
On my mother's luminous wrists;
Now, just staring,
Out of that dark velvet box
Locked away in a locker,
As a precious keepsake
With a piteous keeper.


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