Looking through boxes,
Rummaging through bags,
Scouring cupboards,
Searching for my treasure of youth.
No, it holds no great monetary worth,
Really its nothing but a novelty.
Red and White soup can labels exchanged for it,
Cherub-faced little boy stamped at the bottom.
That was me back then,
Before time changed things.
Like me, its glaze has weathered,
Whiteness has turned yellow with age.
Its smooth skin is showing cracks,
The pristine edge flawed and jagged
Still it serves its purpose as designed.
My Campbell’s Soup bowl–chipped,
Would be trash to many,
But to me it is a priceless treasure.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
~
Tuesdays Conundrum 11 March by Jez Farmer at The Boi Poet blog
Dom DiFrancesco 