GOLDEN

My handsome big brother and his wife celebrated their Golden Wedding today and my clever big brother wrote them a poem:

Gold is not the years, a ticked- off calendar
But a kind of refinement, glinting more and more
From the daunting abrasions, sharp acidic scars
And that slow revealing burn. No numbered vaults,
Or stolen finger-flash, but worn on the streets
Drunk daily- the Real McCoy.