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.