Workmen
I come down from the heights of my own ego
for a cool drink at Reality Pond
and notice how thirsty I am.
I had been high and dry
for years.
I take off the face I wear
once a year
and dance
because I just don't dance.
I'm rearranging certain of my memories;
to the forgotten bin
others are banished to memory loss;
still others
to my Too Painful Album
to ever look at again.
I keep the good ones.
I've had my share of happy times
and sad ones too;
no real regrets
except around my youngest girl
still finding her way,
There are workmen outside
loading the truck
waiting to take the last of me away.
The house is too big now for one.
I think the neighbors at the condo
are alright.
It will be fine.
But still
you live in your house all your life
it hard to walk away;
so much of you
you leave behind.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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