I took out my old cigar box which held the treasures of a kingdom. <br />My own kingdom filled with seashells and dried out <br />Sand dollars to shake and rattle on cold rainy days. <br />My prize-winning marbles were there as well. <br />My special treasures had mermaid glass, <br />I truly believe it came from the kingdom <br />down below the crashing waves. <br />I live by the ocean so I can dream. <br />I do remember seeing a mermaid once or twice, <br />throwing out the remnants of broken bottles <br />cast aside by drunken patrons <br />of coastal restaurants. <br />They would become my special glass <br />after years of churning between the sand <br />and currents of my ocean. <br />Church bells would ring at noontime <br />to announce the blue plate special of the week. <br />There are no more church bells and <br />blue plate specials except those <br />kept inside the old and tattered <br />cigar box of my youth. <br />When feeling old and sad <br />and feeling out of sorts, I search beneath my <br />bed and amongst unswept dust <br />to reclaim my sovereignty <br />that has always been there to see. <br />Theresa Dould Cummings© 3/29/2009<br /><br />Theresa Dould Cummings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-old-cigar-box/
