Cleaning
out grandmother’s estate
we
found, hidden behind old hoses,
dusty
boxes and a broken bicycle,
two
pieces of wood nailed together,
but
the rusty nail holding them together
was
loose, almost broken, allowing
the
pieces of wood to swivel
at
right angles. We suspected it
must
have been something
for
a sports game, or perhaps to hang
a
scarecrow in the garden. We couldn’t
bring
ourselves to throw it out, but
it
remains a mystery.
6 comments:
Many many poems could be written about estate sales. Some would hang together be a rusty nail.
*by...sheesh...I need a comment editor. :)
Nice poem that captures the essence of what is going on: one cannot possibly know everything about someone, especially someone close to us. Some things will always remain a mystery -carried to the grave. Could it also mean unfinished business? Things left unsaid?
I like the pondering left in this one.
found
hidden
holding
loose
remains
I also enjoyed the pondering at the end. You captured it...
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