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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Silent Auction

Outside the church
is a silent auction.
The good weather of the heart
sold for two kind words.
A whole garden given away for a glance.
Laughter composed by a child
for its parents.
The shadow of a bell tower
pointing the path to heaven.
A charcoal sketch sold for a prayer.

Inside, tables holding souvenirs.
Christmas china sold without
their dinners.
Cups and candlesticks
remarkably unchipped,
age, a hundred years.
A picture frame without
the grandmother’s face,
who in the end
saw only by the light of love inside her.
Its price, the promised picture
of a child and parents
that could be hers.

Unused gifts,
books uncracked,
sweaters never worn.
Things that had no place,
brought to the auction.
Jewelry, pins, rings, watches,
brass chains, nouveau art,
for treasure or costume party.
Things brought to help a charity,
a cup to collect the rain,
a mirror to see the soul,
a music box to free a song,
up for sale
in the silent auction of ourselves.

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