When I was asked where I want to put my treasures I was shown a metal safe and a beautiful vase I thought the safe drab, and so chose the vase I was proud, indeed, and showed this to all who’d look Then, a stumble thrust the vase high Down it came, and shattered I was cut, so cut that I could little move All the beauty of that vase was now but shards of memory I noticed among the treasures, those treasures laid bare Something I had forgotten I’d added It was a toy I’d stolen as a kid and tucked away below all else For I did not want to remember it, though I dare not throw it out I picked it up for the first time in decades Studied its dirty, broken exterior Paint marred from years of rust And thrust it down in disgust Just then an old man walked near “Say, young man,” said he, “how much for the broken car?” Why, I asked, would he want it? “It reminds me of my own car, years ago.” He removed from his coat pocket a car, polished and clean “It looks like you had