A Curio

The Curio The curio was filled with memories and dust Part of a past, one’s memories that last A child’s porcelain doll with a face made of bisque Eyes that saw all that happened in these halls A porcelain tea cup with a fine crack Once sipped by one who lived far back A special key that opened one’s heart Topped a letter from two far apart Now gathers dust, ones lifetime another’s trust Scattered in pieces to nephews and nieces A lifetime of worth placed behind glass Left now to others who see only brass