Spring Cleaning

It's quite a task

Sorting through the clutter

Of a lifetime;

Going through this rubble,

The treasures

Of a sentimental fool.

What is to be kept

What thrown,

Nothing in here

Is of use;

Stuffed here

As it is.

I have done without it

for so long.

And discard I must

All, but 

The very dearest;

I start from one end

Packing

With careful fondness

Bits of me

Doomed in the dump yards

Of this world;

Until all I'm left with is

Exhaustion, loss and pain.

And a room 

Clean and bare.

The way it had been made.

Only now

It is a room

I seem to know not.