Chapter 111 : Poetry : The Locket

A small oval of metal, warm against the skin,

carrying a fragment of what once was.

The curve of a face, a faded moment,

pressed between its delicate halves.

It holds more than a photograph—

a heartbeat, a promise,

the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

It is not just an object; it is a memory

worn close,

hidden from the world, yet never far.

Each time it opens,

a quiet flood of emotions spills forth.

Time stops, and the past

reaches out with gentle hands,

reminding you who you are,

and where you’ve been.

The locket is not a keepsake.

It is a portal,

a connection to something eternal.

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