An old Talisman

This is an ancestral object from my great grandfathers and it goes as inheritance.
They wore for a better fortune but they all lost their wars and the horses died in vain.
These crucial wars never stopped.
Very seldom I used to wear this and hide in the turtleneck.
Yes, a harmless war and I stick to myself.
But it's very hard to control.
Mind looks like a sticking plaster.
This talisman won't reacts for my stillborn yearning
And the both I buried in the isolated garden of old love.

To my poet friend Duncan.Wyllie

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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