“Life’s too short babe, time keeps flying, I’m looking for baggage to go with mine”


I’m not a hoarder,

but trinkets do clutter my room,

and random items

do accumulate in my closets

and corners

much like memories

compile themselves

in the recesses

of my head.








Excess Baggage?




No matter how many times a year I

sweep the cobwebs away

and toss out the useless,

the broken,

the disgusting,

a few always remain:


not needed,

but difficult to let go.


Maybe next time.

Posted on October 31, 2013, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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