Below is the poem entitled At The Pawn Shop which was written by poet
Richards. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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There is a spirit of adventure, when you open the old wooden door
of the old Main Street Pawn Shop, a wonderful place to explore
I hear a tinkling sound, from the suspended brass bell
And when I enter the shadows, I am under the spell
I often drop by, a chance for a glance, to dance into time
A dingy old store ..., this place I adore..what was his, could be mine?
I scour the junk, the discarded old trunk, a bit of history in disguise
Elbow to elbow, wall to wall...a sea of collectibles to capture my eyes
Upon every visit, a brand new dilemma.. what might I find in the gloom?
How can I use this? Should I buy that? Will I have room?
As the lifting down from the dusty shelves, the musty scent of wood
Telling a story...pungent and sweet....restore it?....I could!!
A treasure, I'll think...Soon after the clink that nourishes a till
For mere pennies...I will haul it home...paint, polish or shine...that's the thrill!
How divine! Once it was theirs..., lost in a time zone...now it is mine...
Swift on the track of the years that had left it behind....