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