The Collector
She collects old bottles that she
finds buried in her garden,
and places them on a windowsill.
When the sun shines in, her kitchen
is filled with a kaleidoscope of colors –
blues and greens and browns. Bottles
from old remedies for headaches and
stomach aches, laundry bleach, and ketchup.
Smooth bottles, square bottles, tiny bottles,
one that still has a piece of rotting cork
in its neck. Bottles that tell a story of hard work
and pain. She feels like an archeologist discovering
a lost way of life through the colored glass
detritus of another generation, and she wonders what
future generations will think of her when they
uncover the bits of her life left behind.
Haunted
rhymeswithbug 
Used and discarded bottles do tell our stories in our time. This line stood out for me: Bottles that tell a story of hard work
and pain.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like the set-up. I’ve dug up interesting pieces of glass in my garden plot after working it for years.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haunting last line.
LikeLiked by 1 person
“a lost way of life through the colored glass” — sounds very van gogh to me!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely story and yes she is an archeologist. I wonder what we will leave, plastic bags and wrappers, bits of technology…. Not much of a legacy. 💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
I now want to write a message to put in each bottle – very much like you did with this poem – but the colour she created will say the story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love that you focused on the bottles, Candy: their colours, what they once contained, and their shapes and sizes. I love the idea of ‘bottles that tell a story of hard work and pain’, and being ‘an archeologist discovering /
a lost way of life through the colored glass / detritus of another generation’
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks,Kim.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is gorgeously rendered, Candy! I especially admire this part; “She feels like an archeologist discovering a lost way of life through the colored glass detritus of another generation.” Yes! ❤️❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks😊
LikeLike
I love the juxtaposition I find in this, the way you start out with such a lovely picture, the sun shining and kaleidoscopic light. To “Bottles
from old remedies for headaches and
stomach aches, laundry bleach, and ketchup.
Smooth bottles, square bottles, tiny bottles,
one that still has a piece of rotting cork
in its neck.” Adding in that she feels like an archaeologist. Life is like that, sometimes things look lovely, and dig a little deeper, you find the pleasant, unpleasant, confusing, all mixed in. Thanks for writing to the prompt!❤️🙏🏻
LikeLiked by 1 person
A story told from discarded bottles can be so much… and we will always wonder if we only find the remains.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this!!! I have a special affinity for the wine bottles I began painting when Covid began in 2020. Our local newspaper featured my pastime, which was fun. Your ekphrastic tells of wonderful journeys, life itself. Cheers.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I find the bottles on the windowsill intriguing as well!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“like an archeologist discovering
a lost way of life.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
A person with an unusual hobby who yearns to leave some trace behind so that she isn’t forgotten. Very poignant. A great story told here.
LikeLiked by 1 person