There will come a day
when I will empty my pockets,
pile the treasures that I carry
on the table next to my bed,
or perhaps in the basket
by the window (even if I
must first evict the cat).
There will be smooth stones
from the beaches of my childhood,
leaves pressed between
the pages of a book,
a silver coin with an imprint
of the Buddah – where did
that come from? I can’t
remember now, but it has
jingled among the pocket
change of my life for
many years.
There are always acorns
in my pockets, too, so glossy brown and finely sculpted that
I cannot help but stoop
to pick them up.
But on this day, I will pluck
the lint from my treasures,
nestle them in a pile,
and with thoughts
of rocky beaches and
forest floors...
...I will walk away
from this life with
empty pockets.
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