The cabinet

Back from the noon-day shop    
its Post Office on the corner    
bread and tea bags, envelopes    
Mirror,Times and Sun    
entangled with the gossip.    
sometimes old Jack . . . .    
his friendly chat no more,    
forgotten now his altercations.    
A book of stamps,second class,    
(no need of hurry here)    
safe upon the mantle-shelf    
the last, so Alice says,    
they're closing next week.    
    
She sat before the cabinet    
reflecting in its glazing,      
old, inlaid with sycamore    
been here for many years    
china cups, most valuable,    
too good to use, too loved to sell.    
The money would be handy    
been asked so many times,    
a carpet would not come amiss,    
and there'd be money over.    
No, . .money isn't everything    
nothing to compare with
inlaid sycamore, entangling
with the gossip, tea bags  
Mirror, Times and Sun    
in the village shop.