To the odd tea spoon in the jar,
I hope you felt welcomed when
you passed over my threshold;
I know the bottom of the stairs
is quite cold but you’re metal
so I assumed you wouldn’t care.
I know you’re bigger than the rest,
ill-fitting in this new home,
no longer the companion of your own kind.
But, if you open more doors
you will see the mismatched crockery
and realise the woman who lives here
see beauty in all things.
Take me, a wind battered door
with a letterbox which rattles
and a chip in my frame,
she still values me every day;
still polishes my brass handles
and peers through the peep hole.
Just as she does not discriminate
against you, when pouring and stirring
her habitual cup of afternoon tea.
You see, the woman who lives here
sees beauty in all things.
© Kristiana Reed 2019