poetry by j matthew waters

nothing is for sale here

the wagon lie dormant in the garage
tucked away in the corner
behind the lawnmower and snowblower
filled with tonka construction trucks
yellow and rusty and somewhat dirty

spiders long ago moved in
weaving complexities along the
wagon’s plastic wheels and metal shaft
scurrying along the dusty
sides of the once shiny red body

taking inventory I keep them in mind
knowing one day the children
will visit with their own
and together we will discover
old things becoming new again

september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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6 thoughts on “nothing is for sale here

  1. ahhh- love this from beginning to end! K

  2. The memories things can revive. Love this.

  3. sweet sad nostalgia

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