Hidden treasures

Amongst a room of dirt.

Humans wander its isles but don’t see the

Diamonds and rubies and emeralds

That sit on the rocks just under

Their noses.

Clothing made from the gods.

Dishes used by the stars.

Manuscripts written by scholars.

They all sit in plain sight,

On display to be taken

But the ignorance continues on

And looks at the the never-before-seen

metal that produces coffee

And the fabric used for sitting.

But they have no warn qualities

No stories in the creases or

Memories in the stains.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

css.php