Poetry Collection Fall 2014: VIII. Mother's Eggs

She always loved eggs,
Intricate and unique.
Her most prized possessions,
In glass shrines,
Like four fragile pillars in the room.
They are crystal and ceramic;
Paper and plastic;
Wicker and wood.
My childhood favorite plays music,
a pink Edelweiss, an Austrian chime.
Among all the artisan eggs,
Treasures from Brazil to Russia,
Her favorite is a chicken egg,
Hollowed, brittle, and homely,
Scribbled with marker,
Bland beads and glitter glued:
The egg I made her
When I was six.