POSSESSIONS

A lifetime of her belongings were there,

Thrown onto the lawn for the world to share.

Old age had come and ends wouldn't meet,

She couldn't manage to stay on her feet.

Gifts that were handmade by her children in school,

And the bright paper fans that she used to stay cool.

These were all worthless to those looking that day,

But priceless to her, each in it's own way.

I felt salty tears start to run down my face,

It could be me someday, that stands in her place.

I picked up a plate, chipped and broken,

Paid her then handed it back as my token.

I picked up a toaster, a pair of shoes too,

I felt it was the least a human could do.

I watched for a minute, before I could go,

Watched this lady, with hair as white as snow.

I hope that I carry just half of her grace.

I'll never forget that look on her face.

To her, it was home, to them, just a place.

©Dianna Petry 2002
http://www.geocities.com/diannawv/poetrypage.html

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