dog fur tumbleweeds;
eerie dankness in
what was a basement
now, a cave with pictures
drawn against the wall;
each cardboard box a coffin
for something. Perhaps I might
identify the bodies of old ornaments,
an heirloom meant to be passed on
but passed away.
"each cardboard box a coffin
ReplyDeletefor something"
I remember that feeling when going through childhood possessions.
Ah, yes, the memories.
DeleteLove the shape of this poem! Beautiful xx
ReplyDeleteThanks, Fern :-)
DeleteWow, this is one of your best yet, Ben. I love it. xo
ReplyDelete:-D
DeleteI have the same tombs....great piece!
ReplyDeleteOh, don't we all? ;-)
Deletesimple, yet profound. nice!
ReplyDeleteThanks, I'm a pretty simple guy.
Delete