Garage Sale Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Garage sale

Garage sales have own tales
This one was full of pain:
“I'm leaving, we are divorced.”
She said and things were piled
People came, saw those junks
Among mass were books and
Tripod, camera, lamps and lights.

Pretensions; firm and in control:
“They meant much, but no more.”

The books were betrayers,
Spoke much…

She had been a helper
And also accountant
Most of all, a mother
Ambitions much, all failed
That ended faiths in depth.

“I stayed for some years
Proving, we reached the end
Finally he approved…”

She broke when she read
“Doves in cold” my poem.