In a minute

In a minute,
He is done, slamming the car bonnet shut.
Calloused hands out, waiting for payment.
Instead, ghoulish fish carving, delicately presented.

In a minute, the man’s eyes soften, understanding. Smiling, shaking hands, departing
His children exclaim in wonder, running grubby hands across the flawless oak wood.
On his deathbed, murmuring last words, passing the treasure down the family tree. Now a family heirloom.
Now, forty years gone, chips and scratches etched into the surface. Forever, always, eternally, a treasure.

In a minute, it is resting on my palms, my adoring eyes gazing upwards at my grandpa.
Winking, the carving whispers discreetly to me “Your secrets are safe with me, you see!”
Zooming over treetops, whizzing overseas, racing countless motor cars, giggling at every victory.
A plane! A car! A ship! As our dreams entwine as one, my dreams burst through the window of reality, creating hopes and ideas, together as one.

In a minute, erased from my thoughts, gathering dust as it slumps on the shelf, as isolated as a wolf detached from its pack.
“Please!” it begs, frantic to be free from its lonely prison, “Don’t you remember me?”
I will play with it again, reminisce, unlock my childish dreams once more.
But not now,
In a minute.