
I cannot remember
in what century I started
only you will know where I will end
In the hands of a potter my form charted
in fine french porcelain he could depend
***
crated or hands carried me
though dropped a long time ago
I travelled across continent and sea
it was I guess my destiny
to become part of your large family
***
a grandmother’s wish and dream
to a young bride’s dowry
your taste has changed it seems
or is it loving memory
of a woman who gazed 50 years at me
***
more than 2 decades I grin
you have set me apart
never mind that I don’t fit in
for I always do in your heart
that I will always remember
****
This very old piece of pottery never fit in with my other antiques but I have learned to love it all the same.
What’s the oldest thing you own?…
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