Life for Sale
Little pieces of life for sale,
a price tag on each,
a small cost,
sold,
one by one
until
there is nothing left.
What then?
About this poem
Too often we give up so much of ourselves there is nothing, or nearly nothing left. What then?
Tom
Quarry House 
Tom, this fit perfectly in my morning. Thank you.
It’s always either fate or providence when that happens. Whatever it was, I’m always glad when it does.