This pressed glass kerosene lamp With the four lions' heads Guarding the reservoir To me is something more Than a conversation piece. On our large kitchen table It bloomed like a sunflower while We school-age children Did our homework. Each day our mother Washed the chimney until It gleamed, trimmed the wick That was always famished. Reading; spelling; arithmetic: There still was time for a juicy Red apple, a game, before bed. No lamp today, although Efficient and modern, seems To impart such a bright, warm glow.

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