The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.
A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.
With a pale, and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.
He stood there, as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.
"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."
From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.
"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
"Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."
He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.
The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."
"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."
With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.
At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?
Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”
There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall
But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.
It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.
Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?
On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.
Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."
The cane was wrapped in jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."
With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!
Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.
So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.
(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014
The walking stick/cane has been in possession of my family
for 83 years. In 1932, San Diego, California, my father was employed as a jeweler/watchmaker, and was working the day the "old gent" visited the store.