Old Glass

It is old glass. Maybe from the 1920’s.
Leaded framing. Dust gives it a glaze.

It is for sale, another antique in a barn full of them.
Perfect for someone perhaps. Just the right size.
Just the right history.

Cleaned up, hung in a new set of walls,
it will look different.

You have experienced that effect.
How moving, whether by choice or force,
makes you more transparent,

Art instead of cast off.

About this poem.

A bit autobiographical. A bit Easter thoughts. Poetry is never about one thing.

The picture was taken in an antique shop in Kennebunkport, Maine.

Tom