(The assignment was to write an ode to ‘drawers’, using the tool of apostrophe. Hopefully I have met this challenge in this simple ode.)
I have a chest of drawers
It’s called a linen chest
Not one but seven drawers
To fill with my very best.
Not lace or linen in them
At least not the fabric type
But family ‘linens’ old and worn
Bits of history and life.
Before me in each cavern
Arises a world of old.
Grandparents, great grandparents, cousins
All with a story to be told.
Pictures and letter in folders
Faded and torn and worn
By the hands of those before me
And the tears and hopes forlorn.
No one else appears to open
Any of these seven chests
Cleverly disguised as drawers
Filled with the very best.
So little space even in seven
To capture the long ago paths
Of people who came before me
And fill me with tears and laughs.
Newspaper clippings and notes
In albums neatly contained
Bundled beside cards, hankies, ribbons
Their details so carefully framed.
Just seven drawers to enclose
Their hopes, the love and fear
All of their expectations
For someone, someday to hold dear.
Oh drawers of this small little bureau
Do you know all the gems that you hold?
Do you know all that is lost
All stories no longer told?
Seven drawers sum up ten generations
From countries and times far away
So much long ago lost and forgot
With no voice that can speak up today.
So close up tightly my small seven drawers
And help hold in the past for me.
Sit tight in your wooden cradles
Someday you’ll have things from me.