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The Museum
| Open Poetry #1 |
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The Museum |
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Mona Lisa Member
since 1999-08-25
Posts 100Halifax, Nova Scotia |
Stretching corridors, possessing the absense of light Lower surfaces creaking fraily as visiting footsteps trod, The smell of mothballs sear through nasal passages while the scent of oldness invades the subjective consciousness. Lending atmosphere to pieces of the past, displayed with care some trapped under molten, solidified translucence Perched high atop pedestals, Proudly preserved in showcases Each with its own story to tell, of times past. Oh the tales of yesteryear they could dispell! Of wars fought, Of lives lost. Of morals learned Of lessons taught. But instead, they lay silent, in their final resting places, as treasures of old Weathered with time, Rippened with mold, Their purpose served, Their days of use, far spent Unbeknownst to them, These priceless trinketts, though never to be used again, Will serve memory's purpose for eternity as the window of the past is left ajar In the wonder of the museum |
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| © Copyright 1999 Mona Lisa - All Rights Reserved | |||
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INclan Senior Member
since 1999-07-20
Posts 1024Indiana, USA |
An interesting reflection on how things we hold so important today will be viewed in the future. If these things simply end up in a museum...what is really of value in life? INclan |
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