MY HOPE CHEST

It had belonged to my grandmother who, to me was old and wise
She gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday a treasured prize,
For now I had a place to put those special things ready for the day
When I would marry a young man I loved, is it still that way?

It was made of sweet smelling cedar, and the scent lingers still,
It was carved with vines and roses and sat ‘neath my window sill
In my small bedroom, where once a week I would carefully place
Some hand embroidered work, like a table cloth or pillow case.

Often on a birthday my gifts would be prizes for my hope chest,
Like a box of rat-tail silver tea-spoons, that were the very best,
A can opener and cruet set and pretty egg cups on a silver stand,
Some fine china cups and plates with a large hand-painted band.

But the things I treasured most placed in my hope chest old,
Were the things we did together and a love story therefore told.
For we would stitch and knit and study side by side in harmony
And dream of the time when we would be together for eternity.

M Ann Margetson © June 14, 2000
2000/Hopechest

This poem may be used for non-commercial purposes as long as it is unchanged and if accompanied by this copyright message.
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