MAKING ROOM FOR WHAT MATTERS

A house full of one time dreams
and all the minutia gathered over the years
of cheer, fears and heartfelt tears,
becomes a nearly empty nest at best.
And deep in my chest all the “memories”
assigned and attached to each book or toy
are now being packaged for a new girl
or boy. Photographs serve to preserve
all the moments in cascade,
a parade of smiles tinged with sadness.
Another box taped and secured,
carried to the car, for the recycle bin,
for reuse or (for trash); no cash
value for one man’s trash
(once held as treasures)
no pleasure in fixing what has needed “repair”
It is there where reality resides,
it hides in every pang and tug
on a b-flat heart string,
it brings me to this: once I dispose
of these bins full of slightly worn clothes,
I’ll know the girls are truly gone,
dispatched to hatch memory preserves
of their own making, taking a small seed
to nurture future purging like this.
The realization says this place is becoming
too big for just two. It is true you can’t go home
again. But would it kill you to visit a bit more?

BILL NO LONGER VISITS

I notice Bill no longer visits.
His bench sits in solitude.
Frank shuffles alone.
His “partner in crime” has met his time.
A daily trek beckons to unhearing ears.
“Hey Frank, how are you doing?”
“Haven’t seen Bill in a while.”
Frank sadly smiles and shakes his head.
“Well, you take care of yourself!”
Frank waves and shuffles along as
the winds blow loose leaves
where no one’s toes have trod.
The gulls screech a cacophony,
no conductor for their raucous symphony.
And me? I usually watch for signs,
but this empty bench reminds me.
Bill will visit no longer.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #4