What will I do with you,
Old battered dime store mug?
You were Mother's favorite,
When she cared about such things.
Old battered dime store mug
With your bluish crackled glaze,
When she cared for all her things,
You perched on the highest shelf.
On your bluish crackled glaze
Dust motes were spores of time
As you perched on the highest shelf,
A bookend for her best-loved poems--
But dust motes devoured time,
And our dusting was all in vain.
As a bookend for her best-loved poems,
You could only hold your place,
When our dusting was all in vain
And she left her world of order.
It was yours to hold a place
Among her once-treasured things
When she left her world of order
(You being Mother's favorite
Of all her few treasured things),
But what will I do with you?
Bert Woodall
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