Pointy Things

When I open my great-aunt’s sewing chest,
I’m met with spools of textures, pointy things.
Containers, filled with pretty buttons, rest,
The shears that shine & wooden curtain rings.

I love the smells of nineteen fifty-two,
When I open my great-aunt’s sewing chest.
There’s lots of things I don’t know how to do,
As I go on a ‘seek for knowledge’ quest.

A capsule filled with Time explains it best,
To hold what mysteries were in her hands.
When I open my great-aunt’s sewing chest,
The spoils in colors rare of far-off lands.

The journeys with my aunt on camels shook,
As wagon trains were rolling, going west.
Traversed the seas on routes that Earhart took,
When I open my great-aunt’s sewing chest.




NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019