Something Worth Collecting

At the age of four, I had a collection of dolls

A stepmother's passion hoisted upon me

In a pink quilted box, the size of child's coffin

Cracking faces and silk stockings a feast for moths

I remember Alice, a coronated queen and one other

A plunging bodice with breasts sew in to the gown

I wasn't meant to touch

Later Grandmother decided it was tea

The perfect collection for a young lady

Tiny silver spoons and bowls of sugar cubes

China cups and colorful pots filled my cupboard

The only set I every loved, red plastic,

Melted in the dishwasher

In my teens I collected menus

Leather bound with tassels my favorite

The hardest to procure

Strange exotic dishes printed on parchment

Well-meaning relatives drowned me in take-away photocopies

My fantasies reduced to Chinese-to-go and burger bars

I threw them all away

With half my life behind me I find myself

Again gathering to me a collection

This time an assembly of my own creation

The intoxication of the find drives me

Addicted to the electricity that sparks

When a synchronistic connection is made

Giddily like a four year old I search

Wondering at the world's mysteries

Greedily like a teenager I gather these butterflies

And keep them in my belly

But like a wise woman I know

There is no velvet box that can hold

Instead I cherish those

That mate my soul