I find myself more and more
sifting through the debris of time
a postcard from New York
a letter from Tacoma
a handful of black and white photographs
showing people I barely recall and many I do not know
most of whom are now gone
the color photographs taken when my family were alive.
I find myself more and more
sifting through the debris of time
a scrap of paper with a list
a tale started unfinished
a few words saying as much as many
telling of what was inside behind all the faces
I wish there was more
stories, tales and novels of what you were and are no more.
I find myself more and more
sifting through the debris of time
a knickknack from 1945
awards won in combat
a box of jewelry that cannot be discarded
rings, bracelets, bangles and beads from another world
I search among them looking for life out of death
and wonder the future
where will these things be in a few years from now.
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