As a child I watched enthralled as Grandma shined her treasured things—
A work of pure affection, not a chore;
There were smiles and little teardrops as her memory took wings
And flew her back to distant days of yore.
She had told me on occasion the significance they meant,
The people and occasions brought to mind
Of the memories and moments all these pieces represent
Forever in her bric-a-brac enshrined.
But the pride of her collection are two bits of silverware
An inheritance whose origin’s unknown
It would seem from the engraving on this salt and pepper pair
They served condiments within a stately home.
As she polished them to sparkling sure her fantasy took flight;
Perhaps her genes contain nobility?
Were they of the silver service of some lord or noble knight?
She contemplates the possibility.
Then a crease of slight amusement and a twinkle in her eye—
She recalls to mind a rumour known to few
That the silverware was stolen; she is certain it’s a lie,
It’s not a thing some kin of hers would do.
She puts them back now gleaming, in their prime and proper shelf
Though bemused by their secret history
She will keep her flights of fancy forever to herself
Content to never solve the mystery.
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