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.
