One for sorrow?

Maybe true.

I see all the parts of you:

scraps of life and daily grind,

broken here and there by time.

But oh!

If you could only see

the shine and sparkle

there for me –

adventures, wishes, secrets, joys –

bright as stars amidst the noisy

rubble of a lived-in life.

From inside out, it may seem rife

with disappointments,

bills to pay,

the ordinary-every-day.

But looking from the outside in?

So many shiny things within!

A treasure trove you can’t disguise.

Your colours catch my beady eyes.

And if

perchance

I could steal

the vivid things that make you real,

I’d leave my black and white and wear

each jewelled hope,

each golden prayer.

But, unfortunate as it is true,

I can’t take these things from you.

So I sit

in sullen reverie

of shiny things

not meant for me.