Sunday, March 17, 2019

the past calls

the pull of future, and past

a box, labelled 1913,
and as holding golden locks of hair
cut from my three year old mother’s head,

nearby a tie rack her father used,
a thin straight brown branch
with two forked branch sections to hold it up,

a box with cabin plans,
particularly for the “cottage” at Wonderland,
notes carefully pencilled by her father,

all memories saved by my mother,
tucked away in a closet I need to clean out,
for we are finishing a remodel of the kitchen,
recovering space by eliminating storage,
opting for the new and current 
in color and fixture and ease,

I feel the pull of the future, and I am excited,
I feel the pull of the past, and I am sweetly saddened.

by Henry H. Walker
March 8, ‘19

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