Life Story

May 2, 2012
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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This article has 1 comment. Post your own now! said...
Jun. 3, 2012 at 4:01 pm
i think that was AMAZING!!!!!! very unique and different, its awesome!!
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