Whittling

The time has finally come, at last, To start to whittle down the past. I comb the closets and each drawer For things I don’t wear anymore. My tennis shorts for younger thighs; My Reeboks worn for exercise. My wide-leg jeans so full and loose I’d be accused of style abuse. My denim skirt with matching shirt - My love for them won’t reassert. An old wool sweater bound to itch Now joins the pile I plan to ditch. I fill a bag to give away But certain items have to stay If they don’t make me laugh or cringe. Oh joy! My t-shirt with the fringe!