Jackie showed me his treasures.
\nCoins and beads in a box.
\nMetal compacts of tin.
\nPlastic envelopes,
\nhaze obscuring their clear sides,
\npennies and nickels in them.
\nWear has taken their lucid inscriptions away,
\nmaking them more beautiful
\nin Jackie\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n
He praises their age,
\nhis enthusiasm palpable.
\nHis latest treasure is a quarter,
\na hundred and quarter plus years old.
\nIts face like a sea stone,
\nworn to a smooth outline of figures.
\nI could not read the coin by touching,
\nonly the images of things
\ndissolving in a fog, censored forever
\nby waves of time.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s old, Papa! he says intensely,
\nand he is right.
\nThere is a fierce life inside its metal,
\nas if every hand that touched it
\nleft something of itself on its surface.
\nJackie\u2019s heart senses the drama
\nof its age.
\nPassed hand to hand we share its journal.<\/p>\n
All treasures are jewels.
\nThey rightfully belong to a crown jewel
\nwho Papa looks at with sacred affection.
\nThe brilliance of life doesn\u2019t tarnish.
\nIt begins pristine.
\nLeaves a dialogue day by day,
\npreserving forever
\nwhat is, and is not,
\nJackie and me among its images.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Jackie showed me his treasures. Coins and beads in a box. Metal compacts of tin. Plastic envelopes, haze obscuring their clear sides, pennies and nickels…<\/p>\n