Put Away

My jackets and pants were placed in a box Along with my shirts and all of my socks Then they were delivered to a goodwill store Never will I be remembered or thought of anymore. They then took the pillow which upon I had slept Upon which I had dreamt and where I had wept It was then placed inside a garbage can I guess they want to forget this one man. My letters my bills and the paper I did require They burnt them all in one giant fire As though they don’t want to remember me Erasing me from their thoughts and memory. Upon the mantel in a picture frame was my face Then that picture and others were placed in a suitcase That suitcase was then shoved underneath a bed I must now be forgotten, as now I am dead. Randy L. McClave