"The Prize Upon Green Baize Cloth" (Entry 300)

It squats,
On green baize cloth,
In a dusty forgotten corner
Of the antique shop.
No-one ventures to this
Part of store.
No-one ever,
Well, not before.
Weave past bookshelves
Housing many-a nick-knack.
Once treasured possessions
Now pushed to the back.
Limbo and curve around
China and glass piled high,
And gazing at taxidermy bird,
With squinting beaded eye.
Hack through forests of
Cobwebs hung messy,
Causing their creators
To scuttle to recesses.
On beyond chandeliers
And cascades of widow’s jets.
Slap away dusty brass birdcage
And paste jewellery sets.
In a flash, there! See it.
On the green baize cloth,
The closed prized possession,
The Unadorned Box!