An Ode to Items Full of Possibility Which May be a Metaphor for My Self

I am particularly drawn to items

full of possibilities.

The chair that could one day hold my grandchild,

or which held many grandchildren of grandchildren before I was a grandchild.

Glass jars with zinc lids, long forgotten

beneath the Wilson shed.

Waiting to be cleaned and refilled

with crowder peas, or Arkansas Travelers warmed by the sun.

In the meantime, they hold clutches of sweetpeas and dandelions, or sunflowers, or Queen Anne’s Lace.

And they remember the meantime can be the sweetest, most gratifying time of all.

Vegetable crates, still sturdy and eager to please despite their age.

Ready to be of repurposed in my music nook, perfectly sized

for my vinyl collection.

Metal boxes once meant for index cards carefully updated

with changes of address and surnames, birthdays and sales records.

I make notes to remind me of mannerisms and the color of my father’s car and the smells

of a country lane or subway tunnel or the coast on a stormy day.

Snippets of dreams.

They hold my stash of memories for a future I have yet to write.

Copyright 2019 – Laurie Marshall

This poem is being posted as part of the #100dayproject. Find out more here.