An old man passed by me one autumn day,
Old trinkets tucked away in each weathered hand.
He stopped me on my way home,
His eyes sparkling as he placed a dull, metal watch upon my glove.
I looked down to see that it was broken; the face was cracked beyond repair
And the needle hands were sound asleep against my wrist.
Perplexed, I turned to give back the useless thing,
An apologetic smile fixed upon my lips… but he was nowhere to be found.
I shrugged and walked back to my home - and halfway there,
The dimming light caught a brilliant shine!
I wiped my eyes clean of fatigue, for the day was long and dreary,
But there they were - seven large stones:
Diamonds… inlaid into the underside plate,
Their winking faces sprayed gleaming shards of silver
Across my battered long coat.
I ran my fingers over them to assure that they were real,
As if the impossible treasures may have just been an illusion -
But pressed into my fingertips were their outline.
I shook my head in disbelief, my heart warming
As I smiled down at the blessing in disguise.