From a childs perespective

Remember when I was a small tot.
We went to Gran's, we never saw her a lot,
And all the things you were told, before entering the door.
How to behave, you musn't wriggle or squirm, and what's more,
You musn't talk loudly, and not to touch anything at all,
In that large room, and there was so much to look at,
And you wished to feel all those things you could see,
In cabinets tall filled with crystal and things so dear.

A model ship carved out of bone, by Uncle Henry who brought it home,
from the Arctic cold. He carved it from the bone of whale,
So goes the family tale. Crystal glasses from Norways clime,
And an eight day clock, which once did chime in Nelsons hall,
So the story went, and something else that belonged to a President,
Of some republic, and when it fell this article was souvinered by Aunty Nell, who risked life and limb so it could take pride of place,
In that large and remote glass show case.

And as you sat on the edge of the chair, if you coughed or sneezed,
You got such a glare, from Mother or Father as they sipped their tea,
From bone china cups that were so rare. Handed down from generations back,
There was only one pair, preserved for visitors just like us, on special
occasions, and I used to wonder if they were scared like me, that they'd drop a cup, or spill their tea, on the lace table cloth that was older by far, than cups and plates or the ornate sugar jar.

Gran presided in her own way, dignified correct as befitted her day.
Everything in order, just so, places set, decorum reigned and no neglect,
Of manners right, as befitted the scene, and still I sat on the edge of my chair, but I could scream, please let me loose from all this sham,
Of nice behaviour. Let me be free to touch and feel the history I see.
Locked away behind the glass, locked away from me.

When I'm a Gran I hope I'll be, one who shares her treasures rare,
And with the young ones seated there, lovingly tell them of days gone by,
And watching them with careful eye, as they look and feel and touch the past, and not keep it locked behind cold glass.