Cufflinks of gold engraved with my initials,
the perfect accessory to a starched white Oxford shirt.
A matching tie-tack holds down a silken field of burgundy paisley
impeccably dressed for no one.
A silver tea set sits tarnished and dusty,
no silver spoon needed to stir honey into Earl Grey,
no sparkling knife needed to spread raspberry jam on a warm buttered scone.
My life, I grabbed the proverbial brass ring.
It rained down metals.
Chromium! Platinum! Titanium!
No nickel, no tin, no lead.
I bought a diamond ring that sits in a velvet lined box,
waiting for a finger to call its home.
But diamonds are just compressed carbon
that heat and time will turn into a lump of coal.
Where is a hand to hold as I walk through life into my golden years?
Where are the fingers to run through the silver in my hair?
Where is a shoulder I can rest my head on as the weary sun grows heavy in the sky?
Where are the eyes that lovingly gaze whilest I sleep
under stars shining like compressed carbon in the sky?
As I dream
The elemental truths of life really aren't so elemental at all.