Amnesia620

After the reading of my great-grandmother's will,
it's key resting over on the window sill,
in the room where my great-grandmother slept,
and her dearest keepsakes were kept,
in the old armoire made of strong mahogany,
the room in which her soul broke free,
just moments after she said in a final gasp,
her good-byes expressed in a rasp,
she retold her stories over her last few days,
behind her eyes each thought plays,
tales of love, pain, courage and strife,
all of the pieces that built her life,
renditions of the secrets and dreams within,
private jokes that once made her grin,
she told me things I would be eagar to find,
I would stare off but she didn't mind,
now her days are over and her body is gone,
yet this victorian furniture piece lives on,
it's no secret that it's key opens each drawer,
to a world of moments from before,
my age is old and now my life has ended,
to my funeral a group attended,
by friends and neighbors since I've no family,
and from the afterlife comes my plea,
another's admiration for it's charm is easy to ensnare,
it's joy and pride I was unable to share,
ignorance of it's age has now made it's future look so frail,
as it's featured in a paper as "up for sale",
within it's victorian dimensions of mahogany wood,
the history remains kept where it should,
in the secret place inside it's forever tucked away,
for someone new to discover one day,
in the grandeur of it's beautifully dark shadow,
our family's pride is sealed in it's glow.

__________________
For example, I find that a lot of college girls are barbie doll carbon copies with few differences...Sadly, they're dumb, ditzy, immature, snotty, fake, or they are the gravitational center to orbiting drama. - Amnesia620