The Hoarder's Hapless Husband
She grasps. She does so without reason.
Never poor, but raised by parents who
Had been when they were young, she
Fills the house with items we may “need
Someday,” but never do, and none of these
Can be discarded. I, at wits' end, go from
Room to room to view her heaped-up
Treasures, thinking that, if they were gone,
We'd have some breathing room.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 28 times
Written on 2022-06-22 at 01:57
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