She was a collector of sorts
She lived to breathe new life
into the broken, lost and forgotten treasures
she found along her path.
Some in such disarray, they could not be saved
but she kept them anyway…
for she loved them for their imperfections.
She found a place for each
The broken souls on the top shelf
so they had a view of the beautiful world.
The lost memories were stored in mason jars
on the dusty window sills of her home,
because the sunlight would reflect off the glass
and create a silhouette of light against her dull walls.
She stacked all the forgotten treasures
upon her book case, surrounded by all the stories
she loved to read, so they too would have a story to tell.
Her collection of the uncollected
portrayed a life of moments missed,
forgotten loves and letters worn with time.
All the things that life had thrown away.
For they had no value, to others
Yet she found homes for all these moments
within her heart. She gave them a reason for being
the imperfect, perfections of her life.
She breathed new life into the past
and gave them a reason to exist.
A collection that had no value
except to the collector herself.