Life’s doors open and close, database grows, time slows,
Moving on, categorizing self-identities inside cardboard boxes,
Trying to integrate the past with an unknown future;
Packing up the stories in my head, my fears, and dreams
Without the smiles, scars, laughs and pieces of my heart.
Just things … mugs, bowls, sheets, shoes, books, brooches,
A special gift vase once filled with glorious living flowers,
Hand crafted ceramics, paintings, my mother’s crystal basket.
A box can never pack what matters … memories or gratitude,
Moving on to forget yesterdays or find tomorrow’s dreams.
Why in the world do we upsize so much to downsize
Someday for someone to open these treasure boxes
To utilize, criticize, give away or trash like relics on the beach?
Passing on, accumulate less, when moving on comes around to you.
Annemarie Berukoff
HelpfulMindstreamforChanges.com
More Bittersweet Odes When Normal is Enigma by Annemarie Berukoff
