~*~
You came with your effortless ease,
Seeing through the clouded crystal ball.
To the rest there were glimmering stones inside,
To you they were broken shards.
And I can't tell if you are one of those historians
Who could love a tragic gem just enough for it to be
A piece adorning the chronicles,
A footnote beautifying the text.
But never love the jewel for itself.
This prophetic trepidation, I have known so well.
For I'm afraid, I was just an amusement,
A shining ball of past, present and future,
A story to help you forget your reality,
A footnote in your diary.
And perhaps the pirate who cursed the jewel
Was better than the historian.
For he loved the stone for itself,
Once at least, if not forever.
And once is still greater than never.
~*~
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Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
