Trinkets, frames, old rings, pins,
jars, tins, souvenirs, unwrapped bargains,
stuffed drawers and closets,
postcards with curling stamps,
receipts sporting coffee stains,
clothes sprouting small holes,
punctuate the day-to-day,
parse run-on sentences,
add heft to the past.
closes her books,
trees shed riotous blooms,
While I, overwhelmed by stuff,
abandon meticulous plans to sort
and donate, scurry out the door,
elevator to ground level,
stroll through the scent of flying blossoms,
brilliantly overpowering seasonal guilt.
© by Anita S. Pulier.
Used with the author’s permission.