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
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