Sword

I am an eerie wisp of the past
My silver handle gleams with the shine of metal – and with the shine of memories
I am the key to a door that can only be opened if you imagine
I have been soaked in blood and stained with adventure and sorrow
I am the brightest object in a room, but emit no light
I am a feeling of awe that nags you every time you pass by
If you pick me up you feel the weight of me, and the weight of my past
Everything around me will be covered in dust and cobwebs but I will gleam to the passing eye
I am like a ghost of a past life quietly sitting in the dark