Friday, May 18, 2012
Poem: Of Elephants and Antiques
Of Elephants and Antiques
Visitors to my house comment
on the antiques, a collection built
over your short lifetime, many
refinished and resurrected
with chemicals and sweat,
the ancient patina preserved and savored,
each piece with a story,
lovingly told over a glass of wine.
Or they take in the post cards and pictures,
relics from journeys to places
treasured, castles and cathedrals,
tiny cottages and grand villas
of golden ages and places
you have been, and wish
to go to again.
Some see the art, your drawings
and paintings, detailed and abstract,
experiments in line and color,
the art unsold because something about
them sang to you like family
and you could not let them leave
in the arms of strangers.
But none comment on the grey elephant
with baby blue eyes, perched brightly
overlooking your desk, it's cartoon smile
out of place somehow, yet
for you, as full of memories and story
as anything in your house, it stands
Yeah. That's a baby Dumbo, who lives on the counter next to my desk. Doesn't every poet have one?