Gold

by Meera Singh

Gold


Silver and Gold

by Srija Nagireddy

 

In History, we learned that monks used to illuminate

Their manuscripts.

How aging hands lovingly embellished the words

Of their hearts.

 

You now laugh and say that you are getting old,

And show me the crest of white upon your head,

How it fades into an ebony that deft fingers

Twist every morning.

 

You only shine when no one looks,

And I watch from behind the kitchen door,

Because there is something holy about the way your

Ordinary smile disappears, and I can only see faith.

 

Faith in the world and Religion

That changes with every breath I take and flows through

Sacred books and whispered words, and reluctant wishes,

With you as the only constant.

 

And you act so much like a child, with inside jokes and

Fanciful whims, that I sometimes wonder if you are trying

To keep us young. Out of reach of pained smiles and

Remnants of corrupted memories.

 

You are forever illuminating your manuscript,

And behind eyes that never shed tears, and laughs

That ring in my ears every night, I see you painting the story

Of your heart in silver and gold.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s