Heirloom Interest

I sift through the box of washers and wire,

looking for something the man might desire.

The electric is out and the fridge is a tomb,

so I hunt for the gold in this cluttered room.

I find a brass button, a medal of pride,

with a scratch on the face where the hero once died.

He crawled through the mud so his grandson could stand

with a fistful of junk in a dark, quiet land.