Stuff Of Dreams - Poem by Patti Masterman
The dresser has gone away-
The altar of my younger self
Resides elsewhere now;
It wasn’t worth enough money
To make it worth keeping.
It took up too much space,
And the finish was imperfect.
Who has not watched their own mother
At her dresser, fixing her hair
And face, performing magic there-
The stuff of dreams abides
In mothers dresser;
Even if it is empty,
And the dreams are old,
Even if it lives somewhere else now.
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