The Junk Pile
THE JUNK PILE
By Jerry May
Orange with rust and gray with weathered
worn decay,
the heap behind the shed has seen it’s useful better days.
Every discarded piece of junk layered in the miscellaneous maze,
once was brand new and factory fresh before it was forgotten and left to lay.
The underpinning of the pile an umbrella used only once and left deployed,
Borrowed from grandpa's car and carefreely turned into a toy.
The spines skewered the spokes of a girl's birthday wish now destroyed,
consequently peddled to pieces to see a cute neighbor boy.
On the rotted pink bike an essential portal of almost every day,
when growing town was more than walking distance away.
An old hand painted mailbox now uprooted and discarded into the maze,
now a comfortable home for spiders and mice to play and live during the day.
There a mix of assorted wire, wood and metal violated with corroded nails and screws,
in a snarl of waiting tetanus all serving a purpose or two.
The most recent additions on the heap and a sign of modern times,
an outdated computer and a microwave that the garbage man denied.
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