The Move

Sitting in a chair, a glass of ice water sitting on the floor, my life sits boxed in the corner

Each item given away, representing a memory

Each item kept retaining sentimentality

The half empty room sits nearly naked, illuminated by a large dormer.

 

The sunlight exposing places never cleaned

While I dream of places never seen

The curtain has closed on yet another scene

I wait in anticipation with sweat on my brow, for the next act.

 

The man will come tomorrow, to pick up the boxes

As I sit here waiting, I think about my losses

Of family and friends long departed

From my life they  it seems they darted.

 

Today is a victory, for I am alive, watching the sun stream into the room

No edifices to build, no paths lay unexplored

Tomorrow will be the top of the hill, a life alive and never bored

How lucky I am today, at 3pm, sitting here in this empty tomb.