Poem: Every. Thing.

33_resize

Every. Thing.

Simple curved wood.
A few tacks.
Stain.
Shellac.

A place at the table
void of clutter.
A pair of pencils.

Enough.
No more.

In the next room a clock.
The pendulum swings silently.
Time is told.
No more.

Every.
thing.
tells you about
yourself,
about what is enough,
and if you poke at it,
why.

About this poem

After my separation and divorce twelve years ago or so, I moved from a nearly four thousand square foot home to a six hundred square foot apartment. I found simple suited me, and I have spent the time since in a constant battle against stuff. I am no minimalist, but I like things simple and uncluttered. Life included.

But stuff, I have learned, has meaning. It tells a story that is more about soul than stuff. And that is fascinating indeed.

Tom

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s