Empty thought

What brings round thought
A simple object etched in silver
Half full or empty
Perhaps even overflowing,
Spilling out of my mind
Antique pieces of yesterday.
Cradled in the artists hand
Flowers and insects grow
With each movement created from an emptiness
That borne a thought
Of splendor.
These pieces lose me in wonder
The magic of the mind who made
Each metal piece that sits untouched
Empty of the soul of water
Too precious to use
Forgotten on a shelf
Gazed upon but thought impractical
For the cost of an object
That will remain like history
Fading and dusty
Its intended function now lost
Enclosed in glass perhaps
Later to be wondered at
By an inquiring mind.

I’ve always loved old metal pitchers and glasses…antique stores a favorite pastime to look in wonder at the craftsmanship of yesterday. I never buy of course but often find myself wondering at the person who took their time and sweat to create such beauty. How out of a piece of metal, such detail is born.