She was a noted collector,

Meissen gold and clocks,

Her chosen specialty was

Rich, antique old crocks

 

My place on her shelves

Augured ill for my fate,

A corner spot and dusty

Was not exactly the Tate

 

Her turnover was high

Stock came and went

Dealers felt her tongue

She relished every cent

 

Not the vogue now, I'm

Deemed surplus stock,

Auction rooms await me

My ego's taken a knock

 

Purgatory's not for me,

Beady punters eyeing

Prodding, often poking,

I think I'd prefer dying

 

No, my pride revolts,

Certain that I matter,

Jumping from the shelf

I descend and shatter