I lose myself on Queen West
in eight-by-fifteen feet of antique shop
layered thick with gold clocks and china saucers
like the prize-winning five inches of crocheted lace
in the WWI-era paperback I carry with me.
The years resonate in the old wood cabinets
and the five dollar beaded necklaces gossip
amongst themselves over origin stories.
My heart is greened copper, the gleam
of twenty crystal chandeliers
reflected in my sepia toned eyes.