Rusty tricycle,
bent and old,
longing for the happiness it once received
as children flocked to its presence.
He can almost see their innocent smiles,
feel their excited touch and hear their
simple laughter
but is rushed to reality as his sigh
breaks through
the vision of past days.
Now with broken dreams,
it sits here
with others;
others that miss what they used to be.
A tattered lawn mower hangs with rust,
casting a dark shadow on the wall,
reflecting his mood.
Dull, bent blades,
no longer stained with the color of
freshly shredded grass.
Torn wheels,
Torn bag,
Torn soul.
An old gasoline can,
hoping for fumes,
searching the corners of himself for a trace,
for evidence that once,
years ago,
someone embraced his efforts.
Rays of sun peer through a small crack in the curtained window,
forcing light to rest quietly,
unable to penetrate
the darkness created by the
unforgiving dent
piercing deep into the cold metal.
A weathered suitcase
on the side wall
ornamented with leather braids
weaving anxiously
until they break and tear
leaving patches of dull, worn surface.
The latches fail to connect,
the tired wheels
struggle to support
and the handle lays frozen
in its uncomfortable pose.
Here the suitcase sits awkwardly,
remembering the days when it traveled,
when it saw the world.
Now it stares at the wall,
day after day,
emptiness its only content,
dust its only friend.
A bell sounds
and students chaotically enter the room
and arrange themselves
among long, black tables that rest on the tiled floor.
Relief echoes as they enter
the place
where they all somehow fit in.
Sketchpads emerge,
canvas is brought from the back room
and a variety of mediums are displayed.
A careful eye
travels confidently
through the room.
A timid hand lifts a few well-used colored pencils
out of a tin box.
With a few creative strokes,
color is found in the patches of rust
that decorate an old tricycle.
Color and beauty that the tricycle thought was lost forever.
The talent of another is focused upon a dingy gasoline can,
the dent catching his attention.
Perhaps the faint light
reflecting off the tattered metal
creates hope in a depressed heart.
Purpose rediscovered.
The suitcase finds himself on a journey unlike any before.
He enters a world of paint and canvas,
a world more glorious than Paris after hours.
The lawn mower, now hangs brilliantly in a wooden frame,
bringing variety to an otherwise lonely, plain wall.
Items that were once dead
are now alive.
On paper they find peace,
in art they find new discoveries
and everyone finds
something worth finding
in Peggy Anderson’s art room.
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