George T. Mormann

Tag: death

Youth, it is

a sandcastle
admired for a day,
abandoned to the
inevitable tide.
Photographs, like
grains of sand,
rouse the shallows
where memory wades.

a dollop chased out
of a jar of promises,
an arthritic swivel
of a fingertip
twisting counter-
clockwise against
the hands of time.

reclaimed in somber
over a box of ash
filled before the age
of seventy.

“Foolish Sentiment”

     It was a garage sale find. Not a lucky one. Just a find. Sitting on a fold-up card table with floral linens, a retro Mr. Coffee with tainted water rings, and rooster décor. Typical possessions of a dead Grandmother. Maybe even a dead Great-Grandmother, given that the woman selling these items, speaking fondly of her dead mother, looked to be well into her sixties. One of those glass blown, amber hued ashtrays. Twenty-five cents and looked brand new. It’ll go in the bag with this set of demitasse coffee cups and saucers, all wrapped gently in newspaper. As she wrapped the coffee cups, the woman reminisced on Sunday morning tea with her dead mother, using these very cups. Have a nice day and enjoy the rest of the Summer months.
     There was no need for another ashtray, in fact, it looked a lot like this one, which was a thrift store find several weeks ago. Those thrift store finds with their unknown origins, but long stories no doubt. Who else had hung this lithograph on their wall? The dust was still caked up at the top of the frame. Six dollars and a story that’ll never be heard by anyone. The previous owner was probably dead, too. Perhaps another Grandparent who passed down treasures to children without a use for it. It wasn’t their style. A print of a steamship on the Mississippi certainly has more meaning than an ashtray or set of coffee cups. It was a cheap find. A lucky one. It looked nice above the bookshelf and visitors asked where it had come from, or if it was a family heirloom, while sipping from these demitasse coffee cups.