Silver

By
They don't like it Because it's A dull metal It's nothing But hardware; It's lead of a pencil Scratching on paper And smudging your hands; It's dead, It's cold, It's distant. But I love it Because it's a ring on my finger That fits perfectly With my initials engraved on the side; A mystery in itself calling me to look a little closer; It's my grandmother's hair Curled tight and filled with hairspray; It's ice in my palm sending little shivers Down my arm; And a star at midnight Starting to fade Whispering its twinkling goodbye.





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