The Drawer

A crack all down the

side of a China cup,

part of a set from which

your parents would sup.

You don’t want to discard it

because of the memories it shares

so you wrap it in newspaper

and put it with the rest of their wares.

A lifetimes possessions are now

looking for a new home,

the dressing table still holds

your mothers perfume

and your fathers comb.

You know that they

are of no use anymore

but instead of throwing

them out you put them in a drawer.

Out of sight you think you can

forget that they are there

even though your mothers

scent still hangs in the air.

Clothes are piled on the bed

ready for the thrift shop,

at this stage reality calls

and you have to stop.

Tears start to fall as you realise

they will never be back

and with shaking hands you open

the drawer and empty it into a sack.