YE OLDE VASE

Oh what tales that vase could tell, if it had a voice.
It sat with dignity on the oak chest in the auction hall.
No chip or crack could be seen, a perfect choice
For a dealer to gain, there it was waiting for it’s call.

It’s shape was graceful, colours blended and subdued,
So tall and slender, hand thrown in perfect symmetry.
Everyone loved it as they came and close viewed,
This masterpiece of workmanship and beauty.

Two hundred years it stood on a wooden pedestal,
Gracing the hall of the large rambling farm.
Each week carefully dusted, admired by all,.
It stood there like a sentinel, keeping them from harm.

It seemed to glow with joy when all went well,
But showed no shine when all things were low,
“It has a personality” the family would tell
Those who wanted it, empty handed they would go.

The auctioneer was ready, things were going fast,
The old vase waited almost in sadness it seemed,
Waiting for the fate that would befall it at last,
The friend of the farm house, as it sat and dreamed.

Dreamed of the love within the farmhouse walls,
Of the family gathered around, all the tales it heard,
Listening for folks coming home, hearing happy calls,
Waiting for the spring and the call of many a bird.

Maggie was old and poor, the only one left in the family,
She had to sell the house, and everything she had,
She held twenty dollars, hoping that’s all it would be.
Her head was low, her heart in pain, eyes very sad.



Then at last the vase was on the stand, so lovely to see,
“Who’ll give me five hundred for this fine specimen?”
She stood, with timid voice, “Don’t take this away from me,
Twenty dollars I bid for the vase, don’t want a milk can,
Or jewels fair, just my vase to help me remember better days
And how happy I was as a child with my family around.”
The auctioneer stood, “ Does anyone wish to go higher?” he says,
Each voice was silent, every eye looked at the ground.

“The vase for twenty dollars, going.....going......gone”
That was the days work finished, completely done,
Maggie picked up her treasure with happy pride
And walked across the field to the shed, now home,
She placed it on an old table with joy she could not hide
And dusted it and it glowed, glad it did not roam.
It invited her to come and made her peep within,
At the bottom of the vase was a small envelope,
She opened it and found something that made her grin,
A gold broach and old coins, it gave her joy and hope.

Maggie would never be very rich, but she had a tale to tell,
Of the old vase that always served the family well.
If you go to an auction and see a treasure standing there,
It may be Maggies vase, buy it and handle it with care.

M Ann Margetson April 9 1999 ©
POEMS99/Yeoldevase

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