The Coin Interpreter
A gleaming coin in his hand,
With an eyepiece he scanned.
And made notes of the same,
As if it were a puzzle game.
And on his desk sat other coins waiting,
Of gold and silver of the highest rating.
He studied each of them carefully,
For days and days, weeks rarely.
They were not merely restricted to his table,
Lying in every corner they were, yet to label.
A very peculiar man he was indeed,
But, where to would these coins lead?
A sea of coins he had in his possession,
His love for them had turned to obsession.
But it was not wealth that he was after,
He was a true historian, a history drafter.
He believed that every coin had it's story,
Which he'd patiently listen to in all its glory.
And coins taught him a lot about history,
About the things that'd remained a mystery.
About emperors, epic battles and noble men,
And common day things every now and then.
About financial and political conditions,
All told by the coins and their compositions.
He always felt that coins highlighted the past,
And reflected the future, in a glossy contrast.
So, as the world moved on and time flew by,
He ever sat there, with a coin to meet his eye.
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The idea for this poem actually came from a dream I had a few days back! Never let your dreams die! Transform them into reality! If not, go to the cave of lost dreams! Haha I've left the riddle up to you people to solve!
As a matter of fact, take a look at these coins. They are basically Spanish coins. But, they are stunning!! Their beauty has literally held together my poem!
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