Moving
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Moving at 96 has an element of anxiety but also of humor, if you look at it right.
It’s a warehouse now!
Apartment no more,
filled with bags and boxes
and cartons galore.
Go look in the drawer,
But the item’s not in it.
In the box marked Save,
Discard, Storage Unit?
Never mind, it’s gone.
and whatever its fate,
I may see it again
or perhaps it’s too late.
I’ll sleep in my chair.
The bed is smothered
with clothes I must sort,
some linens and others.
I trip over things that
were left on the floor
and find I can’t open
the coat closet door.
A few days from now
the move will get done
and I’ll get settled in.
I can imagine the fun!
Copyright © Barbara Peckham | Year Posted 2025
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