Size isn't everything

Numbed after the funeral
she went back home alone.
To search the clutter of a man now dead
and clean out the trash in his garden shed.

Jamjars, cigar boxes and tobacco tins,
nails and screws and drawing pins.
Fuses, toggles and reels of sticky tape,
hooks, and springs and fishing weights.

Half-used candles and dried-up pots of glue,
spare motoring bulbs that never got used.
Rusty washers and waterproofing wax,
a pile of scrunched-up paper bags.

The old leaky taps from the kitchen sink,
a fountain pen and a bottle of ink.
These trivial things cause her to think of him,

and then she gently, quietly, starts to weep;

as she opens a little box inscribed -
' Bits of string, too short to keep '.

Reviews

[angel]

It's always sad, coming across bits and pieces of a life now over.
It's bad enough when it's the detritus of a past relationship with the other person still living. I can only imagine what it must be like to wander through an entire house filled with the rem(a)inders of a loved one's entire life.

[John the Baptist]

Of such are the lives of all of us, the leavings of the rich being only a bit more elaborate. The truth of us is what we are, not what we have. You have taught this lesson splendidly, with spareness and feeling. Well done.

[Beccy]

Not fair, making me tearful at this time of the night. Among some other things, I have my nan's pink, plastic NHS glasses kept safe and treasured. Her nickname was 'nanny goggles,' on account of those glasses, which she always wore on her forehead when she didn't need them for reading and other close up stuff.
They were always slipping down and the way she would push them back up with the tip of a finger is one of the most abiding memories I have.

Beccy.

[Kelly Scheppers]

It's a most difficult thing to do, no matter who it is you're doing it in memory of. I placed all that I had left of my mom in what looked like a hat box, only it was square. Things like her glasses, cigarette case, and a deck of cards she always played solitaire with. I take it out every now and then, just to smell the scent of her that is captured there. This was a beautiful piece. Thank you so much for sharing it with us!

[Sami Khalil]

When we lose someone, we gather some mundane things as remembrances. We look for special things they loved or collected for keepsake. When we see them, we start to weep and their memories come alive. Sad indeed. My condolensces.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

The shed of poetry....we lay my grandmother down just last week. Have yet to look into her treasured life...cant wait to find her poetry:) This is near and dear sweet poet....blessings to a warmed heart

[Crowley]

Wow, if I wasn’t privy, I would swear you were in my dads garage. Just had a funeral for him a month ago and his garage is a portrait of this poem. You nailed it with one good whack here. I loved it!!!!

[lakinbob]

Only a month, not long, but time is the great healer, (so they say.) My dad shuffled off this mortal coil ten plus years ago now, and it was the same with his stuff.

I actually wrote this for an auntie of mine Crowley. To a stranger all the bits and pieces would be mostly crap, but by God that shed held some memories for the both of us.

The things we collect hey, but none of it is as precious as the memories left behind.

Cheers. LB

[Crowley]

You got that right, thanks for sharing, fills my heart up!