Antique Store

ID 127423824 © |
A man behind the counter hides
behind a leafy newspaper
oblivious to our disposable world.

Wandering across waxy wood
floors the scent of old days
and dust permeates our souls.

On the back wall stand three
cuckoo clocks, dark and lean
with only the past to mark,

mechanisms broken and hands
stuck at once upon a time.
Nearby a dropleaf table

is glazed with milk glass resting
on linen edged with lavender
needlepoint stitched by a young woman

now old and faded. A corner shelf
is covered with pink glass etched
with depression and the Rose of Sharon

now empty of light that once streamed
into a dining room and set it ablaze.
These tangible fragments refuse

to be erased and for a brief moment
we share their struggles and triumphs
so we linger with the old man

clinging to the past.
We yearn to pull up a chair,
to share a cup of coffee,

to chat about the radio show
last night that brought to life
what we could not see for ourselves.

Yet in these days, the trees shed
their leaves and the days shorten;
soon winter will arrive and we will

don our boots and wander
shivering through the snow
and the new year ahead.

~Melissa Carpenter

Follow my poetry at




A bibliophile, writer of poety and prose.

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Melissa Carpenter

Melissa Carpenter

A bibliophile, writer of poety and prose.

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