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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410283" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Waiting for the box.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410283" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Submerging her best China in the box, <br>she sensed she'd never see it, from that day.<br>Condemned to languish with her summer frocks<br>in dusty attic corners, left to fray.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410283" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She wondered who would find them when she'd gone, <br>who'd marvel at the history within? <br>Or would their interest lay more upon<br>the newspapers which they were wrapped up in? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410283" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">These fragile treasures, swiftly stored away<br>lest children's fingers carelessly may roam.<br>The next time that they see the light of day, <br>she'd probably be living in a home.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410283" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She stopped, she smiled and giggled to herself...<br>then plopped that China back up on the shelf.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Hola+Mentirosa">Hola Mentirosa</a></strong></div>

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