Poetry

Snails, Dust, and Suitcases – Musings on Moving

My room is eerily empty
dust gathers on the floor.
Taped up boxes filled to the brim
hauled, one-by-one, out the door
The contents of my half-packed suitcase
the nearly empty bookcase
with only a few abandoned volumes
filling up the empty space
Crumbs of this,
pieces of that
this paper a treasure,
that one trash
A thrill for the new
an ache for the old
leaving is never easy
but the house is being sold
Cobwebs in the corner-
they’ve always been there-
water heater’s broken
the snails and spiders stare
The breezeway is filthy
stains my feet black
my aircon keeps breaking
the screen door pops back
Frogs on my doorknob
coming up the drain
cockroach on my shoulder
snails appear when it rains
You could say it’s got “character”
Full of it’s own unique flaws
But it’s the place I felt at home
and certainly not without cause
Three whole years
doesn’t sound like much
but it sure adds up when
you’re living life and such
Well, we’re not going far
but it’s the end of a season
I’ll pine for the lizard’s song
but I won’t miss the sneezin’

Montana native. Farm girl. Asia dweller. Sari wearer. Music maker. Amateur poet. Budding author. Homeschool graduate. Lumerit Scholar. Communications major. ESL teacher. Aspiring expressive arts therapist. Coffee lover. Child of God.

Leave a Comment

Comments (3)