The Antique Store

Browsing through families memories, 
That we can never know. 
Amoung the Heirlooms meant to be, 
Decendents, now no more. 
A cherished piece of crystal, 
or china fine and rare.
Hand crafted mirrored Dresser, 
or velvet Queen Ann chair.
Memories of lives and families. 
The sum of them no more. 
Stored away as aging Relics, 
In this little Antique store.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Gauthier Avatar
September 20, 2017 at 9:38 PM
Delightful. Loved your poem.
Shuff Avatar
September 21, 2017 at 1:02 PM
Thank you for your comment
Allison Avatar
September 14, 2017 at 3:10 AM
What touching imagery, it is sad when someone dies and the house is cleared as many of their possessions are of no use or interest to other generation especially as many live in minimalist surroundings. Hopefully these 'treasures' will give the new owners much pleasure, its a shame they cant talk as the history could be quite fascinating. I love browsing through antique/second hand stores!:-) hugs jan xx
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