Old Poem

I found one of my old poems. I would have never written it this way now but kind of like it anyways.

A Mother’s Jewelry
The pendant Hangs
regal and stately.
a book rests open
sorts of tales take shape
and pregnant words become
As they are spoken.

Still she reads, pages attend.

Her rings clink and clank.
gold shimmers stone flashes
as picture in the eye.
heart ranked, mind outflanked,

Still she reads, pages bend.

Surely such rings were forged
to be knelt before, kissed by
priests, advisers councilors of old
her veins they enfold.

Still she reads, pages descend.

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