The Metal Elephant
It grinned at me from where it hung,
coyly and effervescently, above a dusty shelf.
Dare I ask where it came from or
shall I ask where it intends to go?
Its large legs looked as if they were moving,
and the colorful paint against the metal
revealed to me a history
that which my mother had lived.
It looked to me like it was searching for a home.
A place where it could be amongst
regularly dusted shelves, and books
with stories of Africa and other worlds
imagined or real.
Its eyes told me to keep looking forward,
to keep going, to keep on
against the stress of modern day.
To remember the past, yet not dwell on it,
to bring it home, where it may provoke in me,
all that ones needs for a fanciful life,
dreaming of my mother
in a simpler time.