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The Antique's Value

A dealer of sorts, in the finest antiques, Sir Reginald of York, was his name. By chance, he encountered a sale on one day that brought him closer to fame. For upon a table, all tarnished and worn, laid there, but everyone passed by, It was something of value, or so he thought, as he saw it from the corner of his eye. He ventured to ask the tradesman its worth and he just stated, “two quid.” Reginald, the bargaining man that he was knew it was more, yes, he did. He paid off the tradesman and went on his way, eager to examine his find. The entire ride back to his home on that day was with riches that flowed through his mind. So, there Reginald sat cleaning this find now able to read an inscription, “All those that will use this to attain power and gold will be dealt an evil infliction”. A curse, so he thought, was a lot of baloo and he wasn’t worried this day. He just went on cleaning and determining worth that anyone would be likely to pay. Upon then, completion, it turned out a grail that he had found on that table. He, with dollar signs still in his eyes completely forgot of the label. So, out went the cup, placed in plain view with a price tag, too high, to say. Though, he proudly stood, awaiting the time that someone would come by to pay. He waited and waited and waited again, still, for twenty five years and a day. Upon breathing his last breath on that very last day he knew, his life, for the cup, he did pay. Reflecting too fast, on that fateful day when finding the cup upon the table, he realized just then, that the price he’d pay was written on that very label.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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Date: 6/1/2013 8:44:00 PM
Michael, congratulations on having your poem Featured this past week. It was nice reading your poem tonight. Goodnight~ Linda
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Date: 5/28/2013 12:02:00 PM
Ah yes. Many's the cup that I've tipped up. Good story. Drinking, too, can do it to you. Congrats on the selection. daver
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Book: Shattered Sighs