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rain

I step outside onto a kaleidoscope made of glass

born of a brown paper bag

once pregnant with remnants

physical pieces

of memories

now shining brilliantly with water

dappled with sunlight

a jagged triangle of rosebud china

from my first set

a piece of a teacup

I remember

playing tea

dolls with dirty ringlets

and a one-eyed rabbit

pulpy pink lemonade

and specially seasoned mud pies

shallow soup plates

platters

and finger bowls

I hold a chipped cup to my ear

and like a seashell’s watery song

I hear

the conversations of dinner parties past

gossip and china clinking brightly

closing my eyes

I listen harder

come closer

can you hear it?

the sounds of children at an ice cream social

a fiddle playing a merry tune

couples whispering under the stars

laughing

as embers crackle under a strawberry moon

before there were cars

or streetlights to guide them.

~Melissa Placzek 2011