Coming Home

I will kneel in front of the desk in my childhood room, sliding open drawers and exploring cubby holes.

Finding things I thought I would never need, but saved anyway.

Thinking now that I have a use for these long lost treasures.

I will reach underneath my bed and pull out clear containers.

They are full of nick-nacks and diaries, photographs and stuffed animals, erasers and note pads.

I will try to obey my mother and find some things to get rid of, but probably fail and put everything back in its place.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 16th, 2010 at 6:00 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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