He carried the tiny greyscale anchor
Fondly in his small wallet over years
The image of an auspicious charmer
Which mattered in life like a compass
Over the dusty paths of daily strife
It casted a glow that shaped his life
Without this compass in the dark
The blinding fog would dim his spark.
But one fine morning, from his vest
The monochrome slipped on to floor
Beneath her inquisitive gaze to a rest –
Magnanimously, she chose to ignore.
The illusion broke, a realization came
To light his path, the inner truth awoke
No frame was ever built to trap a star
Whose pristine light now warms his core.
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