Bookends

I’m still
Filling
Notebook pages,
Telling
My story
Best I can, for posterity, or the ages.
 
Time for a break
To unpack
A few boxes
Stashed
In the guestroom
Closet.
 
I find old letters, photos,
Mementoes;
Items
I chose
To participate
In life’s forward momentum.
 
Here, a shirt of my father’s
Hangs
Waiting for someone
To grow into; our babies’
Outgrown things crowd the other side
Of this space, borrowed from
 
Future guests, with whom
We’ll tell stories,
Discuss children,
Priorities,
Parents:
Bookends.
~st