Links

In a box in the closet,
Beneath lots of shoes,
Was a bundle of greeting cards;
All did effuse

With good wishes, congrats
And excitement galore
For the birth of a baby
A short time before.

I read every card;
Some had names I don’t know
For they all had been written
A long time ago.

That baby, my son,
Now has kids of his own.
At 38 years,
He’s officially grown.

No need to hold on
To these links to the past.
I took a deep breath
And I ditched them at last.