Take Me With You
If you go downtown early morning
You can see the shopkeepers setting
Old treasures on the sidewalk,
Writing their welcomes with chalk
On little standing blackboards,
Inviting you inside their stores.
Honeysuckle Antiques has its window
Filled with newfound things to show,
Local crafts and the latest junk,
A fringed lampshade and leather trunks.
Its storefront arranged with trifle clutter,
Metal lawn chairs and wooden ladders.
A rusted garden rake’s crooked grin
Begs you to come shop within.
A copper cowbell rings above the door
As dust scurries across a creaking floor.
Greetings from a curvy dressmaker’s bodice,
Empty coke bottles sold by the case.
The moment you enter you’re lost in time.
You never know what you may find;
A stack of old suitcases eager to travel,
Tiny dishes all the way from China,
A basket full of skeleton keys
Or an old black Singer sewing machine.
So many things lost and forgotten;
A lady’s hat pin, hundreds of buttons
Peer through the green glass of Mason jars,
A boy’s prize collection of toy metal cars,
Polaroid cameras and a reel to reel,
A pair of broken red wagon wheels.
Everyone’s favorite, a brown Teddy bear,
A no-longer-needed baby high chair,
Piles of silver spoons, a tarnished pocket watch;
Its workings inside have ground to a halt.
Someone’s keepsake once shiny and new,
Time of death; twelve thirty-two.
Overhead, a beautiful lead chandelier
Sparkles “I don’t belong here.
Take me with you when you go.”
Shelves lined with items needing a home.
Cramped, dusty isles you wander around
Through all the lost and all the found.
Then persuasive orphans catch your eye;
A porcelain doll sitting way up high,
Sad, in her torn and faded dress
Next to some pink Depression glass.
“Take me with you when you go.”
Beg the doll and the bowl.
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