The longer I am here,
the more the trunks gather,
one on another in the attic.

I am not one to simply throw things up there.
I pack them away deliberately,
Always seeking new trunks for old things

that no longer serve me well.
It they ever did.
My guess is they did not

for downstairs in the light
there are old things
that still serve me well.

I wonder sometimes why
I cannot be satisfied with what is,
and wonder at the time wasted

trying the new, and the new and the new
only to pack it away. Carefully,
in case I might need it some day.

But to date, after all these years,
I have not. There is a lesson in there
and this new year’s I am determined to learn it

Before I too end up in the attic,
another trunk with a label
that means nothing to anyone but me.

About this poem

Each new year I spend some time thinking on what to change in my work and life. This year I was sick and could not think straight. So no thinking for me.

And you know what? That’s probably OK.

Also a poem about trunks in the attic.

Tom