Little boxes
contain my life
my memories
my universe
my love
tears
sadness
and joy.
My home
lies empty now
another box
well lived
and loved
needs painting.
I’m moving
elsewhere
little boxes
travel with me
pictures,
ornaments
too many
for my new
little box.
Community living
now I’m old
and infirm
no privacy
little dignity.
I’ll stay
until I move
to my next
little box.
Author notes
Re-write of the original dated March 2003
Comments
-
I came to this one by a chance, by random choose and now you left me out of breath. Words full of bitterness, pain, loneliness... whatever this poem represent, real life or metaphorical picture, it is sad. But, this is much more than a great written poem.
~Sonja~
-
This write really speaks to me for personal reasons...and I am impressed with the sparsity of words you've used to give that feeling of small spaces; so well painted by the use of the repeated word, 'little'...a good methaphor for anyone's life...begins 'inside' a living box, and progresses through all the other boxes of the seasons of our lives into our older years of retirement or infirmity...well done. Peace, Rhonda
-
You seem to be in a morbid frame of mind Von I have just read two of your works both concerning death in the final stanza Hope everything is OK Great reading none the less
-
Very well put Vonnie - as a carer I see this all the time! Good title and your few words say it all.
Adding your comment:
