Stale air sits heavy in the evening.

The pale lit sun

Only brightens each dust particle,

Wandering aimlessly through the shop.

Some sit comfortably in fragile china,

While others lie on the heads of old dolls.

Dolls with their painted faces

Made to love a child through the ages.

Chimes hang on the door

Ringing,

Singing,

Forever more.

Matted carpet under feet

Whites and pinks,

Creams and browns

Hiding all around.

Shelves tower way up high

Almost reaching the light blue sky.

Shelves with stains from long ago

And dust that went from home to home.