The first time I recognized silver
was in a star, on my report card.
It wasn’t gold, for exceptionally good;
it wasn’t bronze, needing a lot of push;
it was an acceptable silver,
for those who got by.
It took some sweat to see
its tinge between the black and the white.
It crept up, eventually. And always
kept the poise: stripping yellow off its bright,
Adding glitters to the darkest blue.
The universe made more sense, now
that the extremes were all sucked dry.
It kept me looking for further more;
I got through, I got by.
The cloud stood bare, the lining exposed.
I could move up and ahead,
I was all set…
I drew with silver
and out came red.