A Collector's Story

by Arlene Levin

The china wasn't Limoge but it was a respectable set.

Boxed, it sat in the overgrown grass fronting

an old house, once elegant, but now derelict.

Looking up and into the house I saw the remains of

a large dead plant pressed darkly against

the upper story window. Was it a bedroom? A sitting room?.

I picked up the heavy wooden boxes,

dishes packed neatly, maybe lovingly.

I put my found treasure into my car and drove home.

I was troubled.

What was the story? Was there a story?

With these thoughts I began unwrapping

pristine dinner plates and platters,

bowls and serving pieces. Service complete for 12.

I unpacked coffee cups and then tea cups.

The last tea cup was tucked into the corner of the box.

It was the first packed, the very last to be unwrapped.

Unlike the others, this tea cup was stained

and chipped from constant use.

Visions of Miss Haversham?

Unrequited love, a deserted fiancée, a sudden death,

dashed dreams of a large family and elegant parties.

Whatever the reason, I saw endless loneliness

stained into a single tea cup.

I sold the set, service for 12 minus 1 tea cup.

On my shelf it sits in loving light,

an artifact of dreams lost and now found.

Arlene in a Flash