Yard Sale

Grandma
piled away
with the good old days, our baby pictures
a broken tea set, Sam’s football trophy
Waiting silently in a cardboard box
wrapped in Styrofoam peanuts
munching on brittle crackers layered with a dry flavored cheese
she has not made a peep since we let the dust collect on her hair
labeled her with an address in Florida
yet at the end of her days she remains
for us
an autumn tree dropping wine red leaves of memories
and pieces of us
While we, her wind-paced children
a notch short of thieves
blow away all of her beautifully falling leaves