Tarnished Silver

Written for:  Poetics Aside #516 – “Write a star poem.”

Her star silvered all
who surrounded her
with diminutive
diamonds of light.
Her brightness glided
on stairs made of moonlight.

Like ordinary people,
she aged. No amount
of polish would return
that silver gleam. Roles
of ingènues stopped
coming her way. She gazed
at the new glamor girls
who looked so young, songs
not yet sung. She smiled
at them in contentment.
What a glorious life she
had led . . . so far.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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2 Responses to Tarnished Silver

  1. Jim says:

    Nice reading. Sara. From my e experience, when we grow old we should “act our age.” I don’t generally tell my age but when I do the comment invariably is, “well, you don’t look that old.”


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