The Gold Chain

The Chain

Beaten by the powerful rays of sunshine on my eyes,
As I knelt to pick some flowers, lying there, oh what surprise.
A chain of gold, enamelled bright in rainbow colours fine,
The thought, to keep it but I knew, that it could not be mine.

My quest now, to find the owner, of such delicate a piece,
Perhaps somebodys’ mother, sister, cousin, auntie, niece.
I spread the news by internet, an easy thing to do,
I expected a response, maybe a greedy crank or two.

But no-one recognised the chain from pictures I had shown,
In spite of advertising in most places I had known.
I started looking closely, at this chain that I had found,
And realised the workmanship, would many folk confound.

I felt it had some age in fact great age as it turned out,
What the museum told me, would fairly make me pout.
A queens chain, from medieval times the curator said,
Which could have been converted to a tiara for her head.

Treasure Trove is what I had, they told me on that day,
We’ll have to take it from you and it must be sent away.
I waited weeks to hear the news and one day yes it came,
In a decorated envelope, in italics, there, my name.

I really was exited as I thought ‘my fortune’s here’,
But when I fully opened it, the content was quite clear.
It had belonged to Royalty, so I didn’t have a claim,
But the museum to exhibit it, would mention me by name.

I had become a donor though ’twas not a choice of mine,
But when I thought much deeper, I just knew that this was fine.
We share the world we live in, with great people and with things,
I now respect this Royal chain which joy to many brings.

I’m pleased that I am not a man, who is consumed by greed,
I’m just content to live this life, with joys on which to feed.
To be wealthy, is a thing to which, I really don’t reach out,
I’d prefer a museum visit, to see what life’s about.

Michael J Hill © 2019.