The Knife

Below the silver casing,
Lies an old, rusty blade.
The knife holds memories,
Which help make me who I am.

The knife holds memories, each engraving tells a story,
Of the stations and my grandfather.
Stories such as when my grandfather was rounding up cattle in floods,
Or even simple ones like freeing a bird from a fence.

The inner surface rusted, the outer scratched silver,
Like a car with headlights coming into focus.
Today I am relaxed,
This knife helps bring me ease.

The casing of the knife is smooth.
As smooth as paper you could say.
By now the knife has begun to age,
But its symbolism won't be lost.

This knife speaks my family's past.
It also helps cast the future.
This knife has meaning, great significance to me.
My talisman is my past, my history.