The Harlequin Souvenir Poem by Je'free Y .

I have never seen any clothing more magical
Than your red and black checkered print;
One of the great-grand ancestors epitomized
By a star-crossed lover into this figurine
Handed down to me for three generations now -
A comic performer who did pantomime
On the stage of The Entertainment Arena,
A landmark on 7th Street, every Thursday night.

Antiquity turns even artifacts of hard materials
Into fragility. Still, this one is beautiful, rich in history.
Through the war, through their conflicting families,
Through forbidden love, through being lost & found...
Precious ceramic that embodied it all,
Stood the test of time, so alive, it almost can breathe
Behind its mask is a hidden heartbreak,
A crisis unallowed to surface for shows must go on.

Even amidst the overwhelming grief of a soul,
An audience, in business, had to be triggered to applaud
The bored and the lonely bought their thrill;
But who truly kept the clown thrilled in return?
Let me retouch, repaint its faded colors the best I can
That I may hand it down to descendants with pride,
Like a legacy that teaches lessons of love and persistence.