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Special events like birthdays and
holidays.
Merry Christmas, and here's another
year
to celebrate age and ignorance.
Fifty-two weeks.
A garbage-can clock - recycling time.
Out with the old
for collection day.
Days into weeks,
weeks into months.
The precious things are saved
in a hand-made wooden box.
Lined in crumpled, purple silk,
like an upmarket coffin.
A box with a secret.
A grey plastic monument
with a vinyl house number on the
front,
and the occasional treasure inside
that I forced myself to part with.
Dragged through the gate
and left in the rain,
on the smooth tarmac pavement.
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written by Starlight on April 02, 2008
Some powerful and mysterious imagery here. The final sentiment is a good rendering of "abandonment".
starlight