What we acquire and are meant to pass on can always be something that resides within the heart and not a part of worldly things. 

It isn’t a shiny gem or Something fancy to hold 

It’s to hear, to delect- a tale so old 

How many greats to be added, No one really knows 

A little above twelve or thirteen,  Might give a guess so. 

Said to have fought the storms 

And many troubled skies 

He might Have changed his worldly forms

With each great grand, who  dies.   

A fearless soul,  a kind heart –  A spirit that strangely recurs

With each passing generation, a new but similar tale to stir. 

A family heirloom that for once is nothing to hold 

A kindred spirit, A brave soul that comes for, stories retold. 

They say I’m next, the next one in line 

To live a life to behold 

And pass on my tales, my feats

My spirit, my soul and the not the gold we hold. 



9 thoughts on “Heirloom

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