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
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-old-talisman/
