My Necklace

Its history seeps into my finger tips that grip
And slide and glide over the gold
As it gleams and seems to glow in the sun
The lines that cut and curve curls like the leaves
that spring from my family tree
it’s a part of me, embarking into a corner of my mind
and it’s mine, this sense of history, mystery, a story hiding in disguise
it knots the ties that bind me so tightly to
the lies and lives that echo inside
they shout to escape like the swirls that sprout out
the ways they push, constantly being held in
by the thin rim like skin, protecting it, a perfect fit
it rests in a nest in made by my breath, concaving my chest
the swirls are recognisable but unreadable, like a
language gotten, but forgotten, gone rotten in my mind
still it speaks to me, it shriek of adventures awaken,
risks taken, love forsaken, the memory of a child’s rhyme,
songs of old time, years in a lifetime, and one day it’ll tell mine
told through another’s fingers, held in someone else’s hand.