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Life Story

I hunt through the cramped attic of a house in the South;

Uninhabited for years; the taste of dust fills my mouth.


A buttonhole carnation, kept to reminisce;

A crumpled wedding veil from their first, joyful, kiss.


A ’29 Journal says the markets have gone ill;

A worn Bible still conceals a ten-dollar-bill.


A young boy’s cap, a toy soldier, a baby-blue rattle;

A corporal’s insignia, sole survivor from some great battle.


A stethoscope, a new calling, two faded passports;

Some overseas letters, evidence of church support.


A guest book, a record player, a set of kitchen knives;

A bag of golf clubs, accustomed to master drives.


A tank of oxygen in the corner, some folded white sheets;

A few last photographs, and the doctor’s receipts.


In the garden, a joint headstone, some flowered accents;

Grateful words engraved, proof of lives well spent.


I leave the place, thoughtful, motivated, intent;

To make my life mean as much as their lives meant.



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i.hope.u.dance said...
Jun. 3, 2012 at 4:01 pm
i think that was AMAZING!!!!!! very unique and different, its awesome!!
 
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