If you go to my neighborhood thrift shop,
You
just might come across
Five
ice cream sundae dishes
And
two mugs; if not, your loss.
See,
I’m very slowly sweeping
Things
that I don’t use away,
Though
I often must remind myself
Why
items needn’t stay.
In
L.A.’s recent fires,
People
found out in a flash
That
they had to leave; their homes
And
all their stuff reduced to ash.
I
think of them as I decide
What
I should keep or ditch,
Knowing
that so many there
Were
left without a stitch.
And
as I agonize about
The
trove I still have left,
I’m
sure that those who’ve lost it all
Must
be beyond bereft.
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