I am antique.
I have spent many hours resting on the bottom of my
Family’s kitchen draw.
I no longer have hope that I will be used,
For I am no loner even used on favorite holidays.
I did my time.
I surround myself with other antiques from
Various continents.
Europe, Asia, Africa,
All lay in the draw forgotten and warn.
I went from the perfectionist crafts maker in Europe
Where the parties were great,
The food was elaborate,
And I was constantly put to work.
To where I am now,
The United States,
The land of the free,
Where I am stuck.
Jammed tightly in a draw and forgotten about.
I saw the sunshine again after years.
I got excited.
Only to find out that I was being used for a sketch.
Not for what I was destined to do,
Be an elegant serving spoon.

Which utensil should I use?
Which one will suffice?
I pick up a carving knife,
But that won’t do.
I need something with spunk,
Something that speaks to me,
Something with a voice.
I see it.
I have the perfect one,
A peeler.
Wait, what is that?
It’s stuck.
What is this thing?
Mom said it was a serving spoon,
From Africa or Asia or something,
But my senses tell me that it’s from Europe.
It’s beautiful.
I didn’t even know we had it.
Well it’s a good thing mom bought it,
Because now I will put it to good use.
I will help it to do what it is destined to do,
Be the perfect sketch.

I sit here on the wall,
Laughing.
No silly European disposable spoon can outshine me,
For I am the great one.
I am the antique.
I have the voice,
For I have the spunk that has kept this
Place going for years.
I am the mood changer.
I see sunshine all day,
Because I am the one that matters.
I am the painting,
I am not just a sketch.
I am the one with the destiny,
And I am sitting here just laughing
At what it is you’re destined to be.