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Click hereWell we didn’t mean to find it
I mean it was in the attic of the old farmhouse that we bought
a trunk behind some old boxes of books and
magazines and clippings and farm clothes and boots
and stuff like that
You could almost taste that old musty smell of attic and decay
We really just went for the trunk when we emptied the attic
It was old enough to be worth something or keeping
if we cleaned it up
but when we cut the lock
we had no clue
to the combination and didn’t care anyway
and dumped it out
we found letters and pictures
a journal and poems
lots of poems
We cleaned up the trunk
and sold the pictures
The letters and poems
we use to start the wood stove
on the cold mornings when we need it
We are thinking of keeping the barn
and tearing down the house
It is worth more
and who cares about a hermit who
scribbled
His dog is buried by the walnut tree
where the squirrels play
A very interesting look at what happens after people have passed. Although, you can be sure that the squirrels would rather celebrate your poetry and save your writings from the fire than frolick over your dog's grave ;)
A very interesting look at what happens after people have passed. Although, you can be sure that the squirrels would rather celebrate your poetry and save your writings from the fire than frolick over your dog's grave ;)
...afterthoughts... were scattered in flawless haphazard form. I hope you know what I mean. <smile> The excitement of the trunk's discovery, then the melancholy; then the cool indifference to nostalgic familial memories when the poetry was used as kindling for the fire really grabbed Me. That unique tumultuous style deserves a "5" all in itself - and got it. Very nice work, Reltne.
Vixxx
The unsentimental quality of the writing is almost painful, but is all the stronger for that. A rather rarely used topic which you handled very well.
very nicely done......but i like this spot as my favorite......
The letters and poems
we use to start the wood stove
on the cold mornings when we need it