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I’m surrounded by the exhibits of my tiny life
The things that make me, me.
They reassure, comfort and offer strength,
Their loss a cutting knife.
To you they may be useless, dusty old and frayed,
Things from pointless pasts,
Fragments of unimportant lives, unnecessary,
Debris of my life’s twisting road.
They tell of all I’ve known and thought and done.
Important people yesterday,
Places where life was strong, excitement, fear,
Or brief success that’s gone.
I can taste salt on that rock & feel the cutting wind.
Each time I touch the little jug,
I can see the friend who gave and hear their voice,
And feel the touching hand.
Our house was built in a fleeting span of time.
But the museum where I stay,
Has taken all my life to craft, yet still I add more flotsam,
To keep alive the flame .
(Revised 31/12/2010)