The Glass Case in the Hall
The Glass Case in the Hall is father's Museum.
It holds works of great worth, though small value.
Trinkets and artifacts and momentos of a life are there,
In the Glass Case.

The Glass Case in the Hall has an antique brass lock,
Found by father and installed to let prying eyes in,
And keep prying hands out. There is only one key, an old key,
For the Glass Case.

Inside are pebbles from an icy mountain stream,
Coral from a caribbean beach,
And slices of agate from beyond the rain forests in Brazil.

Inside are trilobites carved from quarry clifs,
Pumice from Mount Vesuvius,
And dried cones from ponderosa pine and giant sequoia.

Inside is an engraved pewter plate from a friend, a tinsmith,
A glass dish blown by the hand of another,
And sparkling stones, ground and polished by grandfather.

Inside are coins from Trinidad and Switzerland,
Sea shells and sea stars, sea urchins, sea horses,
And a school of fossil fish dead a billion years.

Inside are ribbons and medals won by friends and familiy,
Crystals and ores and a postcard of the Acropolis
Mailed from Theoxenia one brilliant fall day.

Inside are a lock of hair, a thimble of tiny teeth,
A subway token, faded theater tickets,
And a small frayed square of black and red checkered flannel.

The Glass Case in the Hall holds father's memories,
Locked away tightly as insurance against the ravages
Time plays upon the mind. It is a great treasure he keeps,
In the Glass Case.

The glass case is a mystery to the children. Its shelves are
Crowded with colors and shapes and sparkles and textures,
But father says it holds nothing but keys,
Does the Glass Case.

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© 1997 Stephen L. Spanoudis, all rights reserved worldwide