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.

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