You find it when your old life is gone
moving dressers, peering under the bed
trying to make some sense of it all
through cobwebs, mites and cat hair
furniture and lamps
a most familiar room
where someone else will live
the house and all it’s walls embracing strangers
Through the blinds, Apollo’s light
would lay it’s stripes upon our bed
waking us from each other’s arms
and dreams on Sunday mornings
but that is past;
the procession of the living goes on
those moments becoming like the dust
which you vaguely know was once your skins.
there are girl things
dolls you carry by one leg
with hard rubber hands and dimples
and clothes you take on and off
these things we pack
for girls will not part with them
but in his empty dresser drawer
a boy thing; a tiny match box car
solid metal
primary color
undamaged since that long ago day
she had to put it away
now out of it’s dark place
you hold it, eyes brimming
it makes no allowances, makes no differences
you leave it lovingly in the corner of his bedroom closet.
.
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A nice tribute to your lost love (s), Frank.
I like the picture too. I think that car is a model of a Citroen Light 15, the same as favoured by the detective ‘Maigret.’
Best wishes, Pete.
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I still cannot get over those Citroens! In the early 70s, you could pick one up second hand for £100. O for a time machine!
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striking, touching, skillful; I know it; I like it
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