The Legacy of the Ankle Bracelet

In the silent drawer of an old dressing table

Lies a silver and gold circle,

A delicate ankle bracelet.

Ancient stories are silently placed in each fold and turn of it.

The first sailor gifted it to his wife,

In a dimly lit room the candle was set.

He talked about the wide oceans and deep,

The moonlit storms survived so rare,

And their love that will forever be ripe.

Then wore it, the lucky charm by her side as she roamed through periods of peace and war,

A touch on her skin where secrets are held, a whisper of the husband out on the tide,

It’s a hope for safe return, a silent prayer, then.

Then at last to her daughter on her wedding day passed away with soft words and eyes shining bright:

“It is more than just something that adorns a necklace or wrist;”

"It carries us through thick and thin.

It passed even from ankle to ankle for every step,

Beyond the bearer's weight,

For instance, baby’s first steps, and bridegroom pride,

Tearful goodbyes and nights that lied

Through joy and sorrow, life's predicate.

Years appeared in its spokes with stories,

Children's laughter and midnight tears

And memories of their clinking moments;

One thinks about a bracelet which brings

A whole symphony of life after listening through it.

Now I put on this old heirloom:

I feel touches of its inheritance burdening me,

Silver tarnished and gold bold,

Its story silently told on my ankle hole

Of love lost and hands held by it tightness.

Me too will give it away someday;

Having added my own experiences into it,

That should be in a future where it belongs—

With hope that this will sing life’s songs

In circles of silver and gold we trust.