The dust settles as the creaking door opens slowly letting in the first light of sun
The porcelain lays at bay rested from a night of memories shared

Generations of children floating in the musty air
Laughter is heard through the walls

Each step a new creek
The floor aching for another more immaculate time

The tiny reminders of yesteryear have not aged
They stand pale now but with the help of the shop keeper they will glow once again

In the corner, the beautiful red haired doll is waiting for her mommy
In the cabinet, the Queen’s jewels are ready for the ball
The walls filled with black and white photos and the typewriter stores stories of a much more innocent time

Elder patrons enter with a glow in their eyes
Memories are fountains of youth and these tiny figurines ambassadors to the past
As they touch objects so familiar, their minds race back to the sand box and the corridors of boyhood and girlhood

The springtime of life
The flowers bloom

Up the spiral staircase to the hidden treasures, the true wonders
Stored away behind the cabinet rests the key to all the answers