Cast into a flimsy cardboard box,
worn out shoes and broken clock.
Paint stained clothes and dented pots,
out of print books soiled by water spots.
A cracked antique mirror, chipped picture frames,
a rusted shut tool case and old board games.
A dozen do-dads without a name,
lacking their newness shine, just not the same.
Things that once were bought as treasures,
now lost value like bloodied angel feathers.
Bygones hazy as dream-fields of heather,
passing through time no longer bothered to measure.
Long time cherished, loved, and needed,
Now sorted, reflected, rejected, and weeded.
Once held dearly as useful you see,
now abandoned as trash to be taken for free.
Cast to the curb without any cares,
a mess of unwanted, used, and dis-repairs.
You walked away from this sordid fare,
what hurts the most is you left me in there.
Jaclyn Millet Campbell Dec. 16, 2014