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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Tossing and turning after a heavy economic loss The shock shattered my peace of nights Hugging my pillow tight with unshed tears The sorrowful thoughts trudged haltingly To my grandma's antique sewing machine Lying impassively in the cluttered store Guilt shook me out of my sluggish memories Over the dormant treasure dearly ignore Up and about I barged into the basement I carried it upstairs carefully with loaded adulation Dusted and oiled my reborn ardency Connoisseured my eyes with twinkling love The art of neatly stitching hearts was taught By granny silently as she held onto its handle While the machine's needle and shuttle Would treadle my ripped and torn today Retrospecting over the many inheritances Of love she left her favoured grandchild A few stressed lines ironed out my brow The silver forks to hold on to love And the knives to cut out the wasted crusts Her crocheted scarf for my winter warmth When she saw her child had no such style Amongst her voguish teenaged peers A gold viking insignia with my initials embossed Was loosely chained around my neck emblematising Her overwhelming love must have oozed profusely When she rocked me in her tender arms Gazing fondly at the next in line to her posterity Her marriage ring she gave on my wedding Which the thieves much mistook for their right Emptying stores of my sentimental potpourri The wealth was stolen with rancour But not my granny's fondness that was Reigning still in the depth of my heart I continue living with my antiques of love The gold viking pendent had inadvertently Slipped from the chain to a safer corner The silvern cutlery smiles at the table Smirking at the ignorant fools For undervaluing their worth The handle of the sewing machine Moves at my command silently stitching Nostalgic memories with empyreal pride October 26, 2016 For Broken Wings Old Jewellery or Just Old Things
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