I honestly have no idea how old this poem is, I still don’t remember writing it, but I found it i a cache of old poetry so I know it is mine.
A Sad Pawner
I turn the sign over once again, telling the world
that the shop is open once more,
that their trash can be exchanged for wonders galore.
I grab the old carpet and leave it unfurled
to entice newcomers with its exotic flair.
I polish lamps and baubles in slight disrepair,
Waiting for the tinny jingle of the bell,
To announce sellers with gold and shell.
I settle into my old rickety rocking chair,
Prepared for another day of disappointment,
While I wait and fight off despair.
This job is the only possible ointment,
The only hope at recovering a lost treasure
And finding life still has pleasure.
Once more the sign turns
And my heart still yearns,
For a tiny lost ring
More precious than a spool of crystal string.
New Vote: “Edges” or “Mourning”