My parents were
bitten by the collecting bug.
Searching for the
next thrilling treasure.
Most with musty
smells and sticking drawers...
But I could tell it gave
them pleasure.
They never had an old
crank phonograph,
But an out of tune
piano sat in a room.
I would bang the keys
on that old thing…
Until the spirits
were freed from its tomb.
There was a strange
framed print of a girl,
With a wreath of
flowers above her head.
It hung on the wall
at the end of the hall…
Thank goodness it
didn’t hang over my bed.
A grand chandelier
cleaned and rewired,
Hung with pride from the
living room ceiling.
After weeks of eerie flickering
at night…
Taking it down was a
mutual feeling.
I miss my parents and
their antique quest.
I think I’ll go find
an aisle to rummage through.
Let memories of
yesterday flood my heart…
And find a vintage piece painted
robin egg blue.
This is a wonderful memory of your dear parents Vicki. I love the rhyme and flow along with the beautiful sentiments they hold. Lovely writing as always!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie.
DeleteThis weaves an eeriness with warm family memories, to interesting effect.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Chrissa.
DeleteLovely trip down memory lane
ReplyDeleteTreasured memories for you of your parents . .
Love the rhyming Viki . . . :)
Thank you, Eddie.
DeleteI can absolutely relate. Such a poignant write, Vicki!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sanaa.
DeleteAn enchanting poem!!! Perhaps they were looking for memories, too?
ReplyDeleteThank you, Anne.
DeleteOh I can see them, carrying home their finds and refurbishing them with such pleasure. How lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sherry.
DeleteThis reminds me so much of my mom in law. She gets so much joy in her treasure hunts.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rommy.
DeleteHow sweet it is at times to remember it all! It's so lovely to read this rhyme — it made me smile through and through. :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ha.
DeleteI love the searching for a piece painted robins egg blue.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Toni.
DeleteMy mother collected everything... and now we have to sort through all her things.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brudberg.
DeleteI love the nostalgia of this lovely poem, Vicki. When I was a child, my grandparents and great aunt all had old out of tune pianos in their parlours, where the family would gather for a sing-song. I used to love pounding on the keys and even learned to play, mostly by ear. I also remember musty smells and sticking drawers!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kim. It's nice my poem had you remembering those times.
DeleteThis is a delightful lyrical piece - so tenderly drawn. A pleasure to read!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Wendy.
DeleteI love to read the rhyme...sweet memories.
ReplyDeletehave a great day
Thank you, Tanza.
DeleteNice memories of a somewhat unusual childhood.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rosemary.
DeleteSuch sweet memories, made even sweeter by the fact that they inspire you to follow on your parents steps (even if just a bit).
ReplyDeleteLuv the influence to go search foe a robin's egg blue. A charming poem of precious memories
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my sumie Sunday Vicki
Much💛🌻💛love
Thank you, Gillena.
DeleteLovely people your folks.. Collectors and refurbishers are carers of things.Nice way to grow up. Loved your poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rall.
DeleteA nice rummage through images that come alive with the telling.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Colleen.
DeleteYes...Memories are the best collectibles, in the end!
ReplyDeleteThank you.
Deletewhat a charming write, and fond memories of your parents.
ReplyDeleteyour parents cared about things, they cleaned and made them work again, and isn't this good for the planet?
A delight to read. :)
Lovely memories and rhyme, Vicki. Now go out and find a robin blue egg.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sara.
Deletememories are always precious
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteSometimes it doesn't matter if the stuff was awful...it's in our DNA and we love it for the familiarity, yes? Not enough to keep it in place, but enough to miss it.
ReplyDeleteTrue, Thank you.
Delete