Wedgewood Corduroy

In the antique shop, behind a dusty Toby Mug, something glowed.A jug? A vase?Its surface told a story in sculpted white: a couple beneath a full tree, just about to kiss.A love not yet burning, and yet not fading either—under a tree that would never shed.No achy bones or broken hearts here.The pale blue of the vase behind the soft white figures made your head spin.“Excuse me… what is this?” you breathed, almost reverently.“Wedgwood, my dear,” said the old shopkeeper, without missing a beat.Well, suck me sideways!Was it not exactly the same blue as your lightweight corduroy suit?The one everyone complimented?Just like the tale carved on the vase, your style, too, was eternal.