In dusty rooms I sit alone
with left forgotten ghosts of home.
The scent of old and perfumed hands
exotic herbs from distant lands,
A lovely object full of grace
an urchin now with saucer ‘n lace.
A treasure golden fair and prized
in spanking fashion idolized!
But now condemned to wait in dust
While those around me tarnish lost
In wait I whisper, hear my plea
in sleeping dust, remember me.
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