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!
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