You will find an antique shop, atop the old avenue.
Enter in through the door and see its grand view.
Stay for a while and go rummaging through.
There’s something for all, and something for you.
Bridal gowns can be found, some tiaras and a crown.
Various memorabilia, looted from this old, Navy town.
Candlesticks standing, though absent of wax.
Outside on its case, sits an old alto sax.
Unpolished silver with oxidized spots.
Three cups for tea without lid for their pot.
Glassware, and stemware and flatware remain.
Assorted mechanical banks and a Lionel train.
A Venus di Milo, no arms with it came.
Too many old books to be able to name.
Overly ornate electric brass lamps.
Vintage postcards, affixed cancelled stamps.
Marbles & buttons in glass canning jars.
Fabric with patterns like maps from a far.
An iridescent Aurora Borealis brooch.
Scrimshaw on ivory that most likely was poached.
Lots of bric-à-brac and other knick knacks.
Dozens of plates nestled high in their stacks.
Wooden carvings of ducks that never did quack.
Paintings from collapsed walls – nudes hidden in back.
Mirrors that once reflected days from long ago.
Clocks that can no longer tell us its time we should go.
Prince Albert, the man, still stuck in his can.
Dust readjusted from the overhead fans.
On a marble top table a Steuben bowl sits.
Cases of jewelry and rings that might fit.
Lenses that magnified all that’s been seen.
A box of glass doorknobs; a dented Army canteen.
Necklaces from dances that all have gone home.
A dozen forgotten Bell rotary phones.
Bequeathed heirlooms have abandoned their fate.
Many an item is missing its mate.
Wandered past lives their memories entombed.
Hours have gone by, my time’s been consumed.
Having looked all about; my search it is done.
What would I pick as the very best one?
Behind a display case upon an oak chair,
Is poised a timeless beauty with fire red hair.
This living treasure outshines all others there,
An objet d'art this maiden so fair.