Glass Paperweight
The orb fascinated me as a toddler
Holding it, I'd turn it over and over
The mystique of it did not fade or waver
Each time in my hands it was rediscovered
Orange trumpet blooms hand blown with skill
Clear crystal bubbles placed within their throats
The three of them spring from a green glass hill
Surrounded by five tear shaped baubles that float
Their fragile beauty and magic encased
in a cocoon of cool tranquil glass
As I hold it now, it seems to be graced
With all the wonder it held in the past
Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2010
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