The Antique Shop
The small antique shop beckons to me as if calling my name
I hurry to enter with great anticipation
The chime above the door provides an eerie greeting
The store is aglow with articles of times past
I pass from aisle to aisle my eyes darting from relic to relic
I see high top shoes with white laces
I see brushes and combs with pearl handles
I see pictures in boxes of families in fine clothes
I see a doll in the corner eyes staring blankly ahead
I see worn dresses on racks with lace collars and bows
My journey through time continues as I move on in haste
I see a stringless violin in a black scuffed up case
I see silverware with fine bone handles
I see pocket watches with long golden chains
I see hundreds of tiny bottles that once held fine fragrances
I see scratched phonograph records strewn hither and yon
I see fine tools of the trade in hand crafted cases
I see rows of fine china all hand painted with care
I see a faded picture of a child with long golden hair
Suddenly I pause as my mind starts to reflect
Everything before me shelters a story of long ago
They are not useless items that I view but the relics of lives past
Each article once the personal possession of a living breathing soul
With a new respect for the articles before me I move on
Ghostly images of faces now accompany each piece that I see
If I purchase just one it must be displayed with the utmost dignity
For its original owner will have bestowed its care to me
I leave the shop with my new treasure all neatly wrapped
The chime above the door signals my departure
The stale aroma of the shop is replaced by the cool evening air
Life, as fragile as the tiny piece of crystal that I carry, goes on
Copyright 2007 Charlie Gragg
Copyright © Charles Gragg | Year Posted 2011
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