Caren Krutsinger Poet Free verse

His Treasure No Doubt Burned

He was a crazy old coot.
Spoke of his treasure. Not buried.
But hidden. Where was it?
In this hoarder house?

Who could stand to go in there?
With free range rats, and all that food.
The county came in, served him papers.
He had six months to clean it. No follow up.

The paper helped no one, including him.
He had alienated all of his loved ones years ago.
His only son was notified of his death two weeks later
When the postman reported the odor. August heat.

The house had to be burned, worth nothing.
The rats abandoned it, dispersing themselves among the neighbors.
His treasure was no doubt burned, along with everything else.
A sad and sorry tale, unfortunately, more common than we know.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

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

Bette Bavington February 10, 2019 at 9:07 AM I feel sorry for people like this. I saw in the paper where there were people who had died. They were trying to find their family. I bet he was one of them. They are all in my prayers. Caren Krutsinger February 10, 2019 at 11:34 AM It is so sad, and happens more often than we want to know.

Silent One February 10, 2019 at 8:13 AM Oh, I remember this happening to a hoarder... Did you tell me you were a hoarder also? I bet you must have some treasure hidden somewhere... :) Caren Krutsinger February 10, 2019 at 11:34 AM I am a "yearly hoarder." In the summer I get a buzz, and I throw out everything, starting again. It is my pattern.