How beautiful old and broken things can be:
An armless, marble statue of a warrior saint,
A door that shows four centuries of paint
A bronze clock with burnished filigree.
New things are pleasing too:
The pin-thin plane of new-pressed pleats
The aroma of fresh leather seats
A crystal glass of Grand Cru.
New things stand for futile dreams
Fresh-born hopes wrapped in satin skin.
Push-button souvenirs from where we’ve been
Endless ends without the means.
Old and broken things are best, you see
They give the shape of what was then
A seedling thought that grew to bend
In human hands our history.