Moving Day Poem by mimi brown

Time has moved in, bringing his
dusty cloak and a steamer trunk.
With a creak unnoticed before,
he lifts the brassed lid high
to see a jostle of postcards
and faded photographs;
bits of rock and a satin ribbon.
A bitter scent wafts from
the frayed edges of garments
worn in happier moments.
Days of penny candy and
the fruitman calling his wares;
apples, bananas...ripe cherries!
The items inside wadded up
like old newspapers; a whisper,
a sigh and the strains of music
no one has heard in years.
Two rings, a book much loved and
a jar of sunlight speckled with sand.

His hourglass lies shattered
at the bottom.