Take the sofa and those chairs;

Take that pan-burnt table and the socks under the bed;

Take the armless mugs and the too-much Tupperware;

Take the broom and the pictures and the music;

Then my pillow and the football no longer thrown;

Take the skis replaced years ago and the bass hooked on that lazy summer day;

Take the maps, the guide books and the crumpled money;

Take the guilty unused spices and the partner-less glasses;

Take the scratches;

Take the dents;

Take the dust;

You can pack the laughter and box the shouts;

Then, wrap-up the sound of running feet;

Go ahead;

Take them;

Take them all;

Take them away;

Even if I keep them–they could never stay.

October, 2011