Today was a difficult day. The family of a man I love deeply has begun cleaning up his house for an estate sale and I was invited to come prior to it’s start. I took one item. Life moves on. Love comes again. His memory remains.
air inside musty.
A fan blows,
unsettling the dust
that fell between
the “then” and “now.”
Tables line the rooms
filled with possessions
both acquired and gifted -
the leftovers in no way
paying tribute
to his impact,
but rather to his frugality.
Guitars and books of music,
sound equipment,
drums and drop cords,
were the score
for his one incredible life.
And there, against the wall,
the print I chose for him -
his favorite artist,
inexpensive, carefully framed -
waiting to be claimed.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 3 times
Written on 2026-03-06 at 22:16
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Everything But Him
The door is open,air inside musty.
A fan blows,
unsettling the dust
that fell between
the “then” and “now.”
Tables line the rooms
filled with possessions
both acquired and gifted -
the leftovers in no way
paying tribute
to his impact,
but rather to his frugality.
Guitars and books of music,
sound equipment,
drums and drop cords,
were the score
for his one incredible life.
And there, against the wall,
the print I chose for him -
his favorite artist,
inexpensive, carefully framed -
waiting to be claimed.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 3 times
Written on 2026-03-06 at 22:16
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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William Hughes |
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Griffonner |
