The Door

(August 1977)

The door knob is dented.
The door is closed,
Waiting to be opened.
It remains darkened
And musty behind it.

It is opened.
Clothes hanging,
All well used.
Coats and jackets.
And books.

Cramped and dusty;
An old grads’ gown.
And more books,
About years gone-by.
Moments and memories.

An American flag;
Holes and tatters.
Broken high-heel shoe.
Stamps from 20 years ago.
And an old shoe-shine kit.

Pictures of people not remembered,
Letters someone had forgotten.
An moths.
And old moth balls
Both powdered away.

Old loves,
And future lives.
Echoing the past,
Calling the future.
Living storage.

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