Treasure

There are no maps.
No mysterious “X” to leap off the page
and stir the imagination,
no pirate tales of daring do,

More likely than not, there is no chest,
bound in iron bands or an ancient lock.
No dragon defends it.
If it is hidden at all,

No, the great secret that isn’t
is simply not seen. the tarnish somehow
hiding the silver that lies
in plain sight.

About this poem

The most precious things are often the most obvious, I have learned. The simplest. And too often we don’t see them until they are gone. We fixate on the tarnished ones in our live, never seeing the precious metal below.

The picture is of a lamp I bought for a couple of bucks and restored. It would have been easy to have see it as merely broken. The final product is below. (I am still looking for the right shade or globe.)

Tom