Grace Poem by Patti Masterman

What happened to the old, solid world
Hand carved of walnut and mahogany?

Give me the old polished wood
Give me the shadows and shining,
Slanted stalactite of sun
Through random panes of stained glass

Wood floors that announce the shifting of weight
Windows that whine with a sudden gale

Some old books with pale flowers pressed
Lovingly, between the pages,
Stain of evaporated dew
Only touched by the gentlest of fingers

Give me scents with some soul left in them;
Real magic potions, because love used to be real

Not dead things,
Imitating what once exhaled
It's own sweet breath,
But only if you came close enough

What will we do when the genuine is forgotten
Where will we go again not to forget?

Let us be baptized again and again
Made hallowed, by the grace of memories
Made immortal, by the grace of love
Enduring, by the grace of time.