Waiting for the box. <br /> <br />Collecting her best China in the box, <br />she sensed she'd never see it, from that day. <br />Condemned to languish with her summer frocks <br />in dusty attic corners, left to fray. <br /> <br />She wondered who would find them when she'd gone, <br />who'd marvel at the history within? <br />Or would their interest lay more upon <br />the newspapers which they were wrapped up in? <br /> <br />These fragile treasures, swiftly stored away <br />lest children's fingers carelessly may roam. <br />The next time they might see the light of day, <br />she'd probably be living in a 'home'. <br /> <br />She stopped, she smiled, she giggled to herself... <br />then plopped that China back up on the shelf.<br /><br />Dan Reynolds<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-for-the-box/
