Antique Ukulele
Contributed by Wendy Brooker
I’m an antique ukulele in a secondhand store,
here with other instruments, to the left of the back door.
There’s a couple of worn wood guitars, a tambourine with a few bell rings gone,
an electric keyboard with sticky keys –in each one of us is more than one song.
I know someday someone will come, put down their other things
to pick me up, and they won’t mind that I’m missing two of my strings.
In the meantime, I wait in the corner between the lamps and stools,
behind the racks of clothing, shelves of dishes and small tools.
Guess what happens after hours, when all the shoppers go away,
the doors are locked, the lights turned off –between sunset and break of day.
When nobody is watching, the secondhand band plays some tunes.
Pants and dresses swing their hems over by the dressing rooms.
Some shoes tap their toes, some jump, and some play ball
up and down the toy and game aisle, where there’s fun for one and all.
Knick-knacks compare their chips and cracks. Teacups get together.
Generations of umbrellas share glad memories of stormy weather.
Then we settle back in place –on hangers, stands, and shelves.
Children’s books tell bedtime stories. Fluffy blankets fold themselves.
Next time you see an old ukulele, wink and do a little dance,
and always remember how much can be done while waiting for a second chance.