The first time I saw the look
in your eyes as you drank in
the beauty of that ancient Persian rug,
the way your hands caressed the nap
as though quickening up images
from days gone by,
I knew you understood

We both haunt antique shops
and imagine those who
once sat around ornately carved
mahogany tables, pretending we can
count the number of happy family members
who lived and loved as they ate their dinners
in  stately houses

We take turns rocking in chairs
conjuring up the personalities of those
who tottered out their troubles as they
knitted sweaters for loved ones, or
whittled a Christmas present for a mischievous
child

Neither of us have any past
or roots
so we know the importance of hanging
onto those who do

 © Aurora Antonovic

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