piece of gold

wrote this after my mother passed away looking at her ring. in India women wear a red dot on their forehead. it is a form of makeup/ornament.

it is not just a piece of gold

it is not just some smith's skills

wreathed in round fate

it's a mark, a symbol profound

love, warmth and childhood care.

it is not just a piece of gold

molded into a ring, a flower

adorned by red stone

it has worked toiled and suffered

like the one it was with for years

it is not just a piece of gold

old, outdated, worthless 

shine-less tired object

it is the chamber that retains

love and blessings.

Author's Note

sorry if they make you cringe.
i wrote all these poems about 10 years ago when i was in a dark place.
English is not my first language.
ignore grammar problems.