Every Time I See It, I Smile

a short story

Photo by Ana-Maria Berbec on Unsplash

Now, every time I see it I smile. Of course I smile — it’s a burst of gold, so cheerful. It reminds of the poem you read to me, which begins,

there it was deep,

meters down — in gold, molten —

I used to wonder, if he’d found the treasure what he’d have done with it. If that’s what he referred to; the verse doesn’t…