The Locket

I stare at the dulled locket.
I reach over to touch it,
Soft like pillow fluff.
It was once as clear as crystal,
I look into it, I see to souls
It has touched, I see the people
Who owned it, then I see a girl.
‘It’s yours now.’ My grandpa says softly.
He gestures his lap. I sit.
He tells me the tale of the locket,
He saved the little girl from the war,
It was her locket. She died on his birthday.
He kept it safe for many years,
his good luck charm. He had never
Shown it to anyone else: a secret.
This was the right time to pass it on.
He trusted me with Zelda’s locket.

My locket.