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Poem

I heard your words 
                  And not one to my liking
On a cool fall day, you say I have to leave 
              You are taking me to a deserted island
                                                        to spend my last days 
                                   alone
To fend for myself if only I can
 
You say I can only take three things 
                             I don't like your tone
Like a fog horn you sound
                             Telling me I am to be put out 
Reminding me of the tale of the Eskimo tribe who 
               put their elderly on floating ice to let them die or fall prey to wild animals

You say you will let me carry three things from our wordly possessions
                               And  none of my family whom I hold dear


You say I can not carry the Crepe Myrtle ablaze like a fireball lighted by
              Autumn's angular sun
You say I can not carry a Georgia Pine whose last year's needles have turned
                                                  Amber
You say I can not carry the Pear Tree still laden with ripening pears
You say I can not carry the Red Bud, nor the Yellow Maple, nor a Ginko
                           whose leaves have refused to turn gold
You say I can carry only three things 'pon this last journey

You say I can not carry the Autumn breeze which cools the trees
You say I can not carry the Mockingbird nor the Red Cardinal

Only three things 'pon my journey 

I have my faith, my imagination, and photos stored in memory that you can not~
no~ never ever take away....

On this trip I will take my Bible, my magical suit case and tackle box...

Later the rest of the story


Finis'
Contest: What Would You Take?
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton 
Written: October 23, 2013

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