Written to the prompt C is for Collections
Venetian Glass Clowns
They stand,
Rank upon rank upon rank,
A comical honour guard
Awaiting my grandmother’s inspection.
Off-limits to us as children
Lest our exuberance
Damaged their fragility:
We knew who claimed first place
In our grandmother’s affections.
They were not fun,
Not soft, squishy, squeaky-buttoned friends
But cold, hard and brittle,
Like my grandmother.
I take each one in turn
And throw it against the wall.
©Carol Carman 2024
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