Poem: Welcome To Dunbar Sloane

We strolled around the auction house, looking at the paintings, some amazing and others – not.

The catalogue is final resting place for certain works, others only come alive when they sense

you’re smiling at them. An older couple that I was not smiling at perused the pottery, old toys

and cutlery. “This is the estate sale, it will be interesting to see wha…