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Poem

By Elton Camp

Five generations of stuff can be found
Yet, in clutter the house isn’t drowned

I try to be selective in the items I retain
Only if of family value will they remain

The oldest, by far, is a sculpted clay vase
Its origin in the 1800s I am able to trace

It belonged to a lady many greats ago
Her name is just about all that I know

It’s a true antique, but of little worth
I recall seeing it ever since my birth

My mother remembers it just the same
To want to keep it, who can blame

To be candid, it is as ugly as can be
But it still means a whole lot to me

When I see it, a connection I feel
It makes my ancestors seem real

The porcelain dog has a cracked ear
The damage was done by me, I fear

At three years old I made the crack
My grandmother kindly glued it back

The elegant bed on which I sleep
Is an actually useful item I keep

It was always reserved for a guest
And with a great many was blest

It’s no place where Washington slept
Only regular people has it ever kept

None of the names historians know
I recall hearing their stories though

Grandfather clock’s from modern times
But four times an hour, I enjoy its chimes

My father got it when he was an old man
“I always wanted one and so now I can.”

The living room holds a Victorian chair
After my parents died, I placed it there

But just for looks, it’s sure no place to sit
Because it’s hard, not comfortable a bit

Writing this poem brings tears to my eyes
It is just amazing just how fast time flies

All around I see treasures from the past
Favorite things I’m glad I’ve amassed

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