Things Untouched

I dreamt of a day on a beach in Portugal,

The sand was glistening,

full of wood colored so perfectly,

that only time could paint.

The sand sparkled on my legs,

as I watched the wood,

some pieces were sliding in and out

of the ocean,

as dancing shells often do.

I could see the wood in my house,

in my hands, as I showed my future children,

what time can do to a piece well preserved.

And here I am, years later,

holding the most perfectly aged

Pair of Portuguese lamps,

Showing my daughter the beauty of things

and things untouched.

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