In time, there will be costume trinkets
nested in teacups on shelves between spry ferns
and rows of books with cracked spines.
I’ll cloak the chipped plaster walls in glossy
turquoise and magenta, transition tones of
nonpareil vibrancy. Familiar hands will fumble
crystal knobs, finger their reflection in mirror trays,
and passersby will steal furtive glimpses through
mist-coloured curtains to where a grand tabby cat
sprawls in a sunbeam, strumpet-like.
This poem was written in response to Poetry Prompt #118: Digging on Read Write Poem.
Storing jewellery in teacups.
Thank you, Martha Stewart.
Describe your ideal living space. You don't have to use artsy design words -- maybe you want something spacious or well-organized.