Antique World

Leather books sit
lined up like sentinels;
one tarnished vase
holds the remains
of a rose.
Grandma's rocker
sits still and empty.
Antique clock
reminds me
to eat or sleep.
Worn rugs cover
scratches where
children once ran.
 
I still sip tea
from chipped china.
If I moved
the heavy drapes,
I could see
the sun rise.

Mo Swanson