It feels as if I've been  lost in this flea market for years
Skimming over every item, dismissing each and every one for their slight imperfections
Once I happened upon a lovely little stool
It was quaint and simple and as I sat upon it I felt I must have it
I finally had my brilliant find, my wonderful little flea market triumph
But it wobbled under my weight I noticed a scratch on the surface
So I let out a sigh as lifted myself off the imperfect beauty, and I continued my search
It is only now that I have found it,
My perfect bargain item!
A porcelain figure so beautiful I can't imagine why it hasn't been snatched up
It seems to be glowing
Beckoning me to join it in its glass enclosure
I approach the wrinkled fellow who sits beside the case and inquire of the price
For that little figure whose beckoning has become impossible to ignore
He flashes a nearly toothless grin and bids me come closer with a trembling wrinkled finger
He smells of cigars and moth ***** and he rasps
"You know, young lady, the most beautiful of things are the hardest to hold on to
and the quickest to be lost."
He gestures to the glass enclosure where my figure
My perfect porcelain figure
Sits no more