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Sunday, July 27, 2014

Relics

The highway sign flashes
caution caution caution
and pavement is ripped,
coming up in chunks,
vehicles funneled tightly,
as I return to my childhood
home, and signs in my mind
flash as well. I reminisce in
the fading daylight on the
porch where Dad sat in
his last days, as summer
now wanes slightly. Next
day, Mom and I cart off
a truckload to auction, high chairs
and other relics of someone
I was and somehow still am,
an emptying house, another type of
season ending, the parting out
of things, outward effects of
life lived well, but not always
easily. We leave our lot behind,
knowing we carry other things
burnished with the wind and
water of age, carry them in us,
shining more brightly than
any polished antique.

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