All the Stuff
I look around at all the stuff
I’ve purchased or created
To fill my home; it’s quite enough
That I’ve accumulated.
My husband lets my choices rule,
Especially my quilt work,
For he would have to be a fool
To share if some critiques lurk.
I never used to think about
Where all of it will go when
I’m gone, because, without a doubt,
There’s no way I will know then.
My children will not give a hoot
About my works of stitching.
My efforts they will not dispute,
Though that won’t stop them ditching
The pillows, hangings, tchotchkes, art,
Plus photo books and keepsakes;
All these tucked inside my heart
Will win the dumpster sweepstakes.
Since I will not observe it, there
Will be no tears or clashes,
But in my mind, it isn’t fair
To turn my stuff to ashes.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
