A chronicle of the misadventures of a would be writer

Monday, October 25, 2010

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
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. 

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