Not For Sale

I went to a yard sale and the young woman said, her Dad had died and her Mom had Alzheimer's and had to be put in a hospital, and these were her things and her Dadís things. It all had to be sold. I looked around and my heart broke as she told me it had been their home all her life and how it hurt her so much. There were home made items that her Dad had made in the barn and tools that he had used to plant hay in the fields. Harnessís that had gone on the horses, but the thing that got my attention the most was the "old coffee pot".  This poem is long, but worth reading.

I saw an old house with items all laid aside.
As I picked up an old coffee pot, I cried.
A memory came rushing back as I held on so tight.
My heart began to melt and I saw a flash of light.

To fill my contents water was made of tears.
A drink from me will wash away life's fears.
I saw an old woman and on the table she laid her head.
Then as I looked around I saw the original bed.

It was all there memories of times gone by.
As I held on to the old pot again I began to cry.
There was an old table and only two chairs there.
All I could do was stand with it in my arms and stare.

I looked into it again and the reflection I did see.
Was a woman that looked just like me.
I looked into the barn there was a harness and tools used with care.
Each had a memory that had been placed there.

The plow that was used to open up the ground.
My heart began to break as I looked around.
The harvest and the fields that they worked together.
Love and a cup of coffee brought them through stormy weather.

Then I heard the story and knew why it was this way I felt.
All the memories were in my heart again it started to melt.
I looked at the young lady and asked for it how much she would take.
A tear came in her eye as she said , "there has been a mistake".

Iím sorry that coffee pot's not for sale you see.
It was my Mothers and it was handed down to me.
She got it at her wedding as a special gift from my Dad.
And as she spoke her eyes became so sad.

You see my Dad said all problems could be solved around this old pot.
All their stuff is gone but the memories are not.
They always sat around the table and talked about everything.
Inside this coffee pot was where he hid her wedding ring.

He wanted her to know that the gift was what was within.
His heart was forever and not just to lend.
It does not just hold coffee but it holds many tears.
When the times were hard it washed away their fears.

They sat around our bedside and stayed awake at night.
The coffee within this pot seem to take away the fright.
They would look at each other and it would be okay.
Our fevered brow would cool and then would come another day.

Yes She said, you see this is all I have got.
There are memories full of tears and love in this old coffee pot.
Then it was as if I looked around and all that I did see.
Brought a memory rushing back to me.

I looked at the young lady and when I did.
I handed her the pot and removed the lid.
Then my tears mingled with hers as we looked inside.
There were tear stains in the pot as we stood and cried.

There is something about the eyes how the soul lies within.
I smiled, she smiled and I walked away, a new life to begin.
I felt as if I knew her but yet knew her not.
But one thing for sure I remembered that old pot.
 

© by Harriett Dash
  2002