Sitting in a chair, a glass of ice water sitting on the floor, my life sits boxed in the corner
Each item given away, representing a memory
Each item kept retaining sentimentality
The half empty room sits nearly naked, illuminated by a large dormer.
The sunlight exposing places never cleaned
While I dream of places never seen
The curtain has closed on yet another scene
I wait in anticipation with sweat on my brow, for the next act.
The man will come tomorrow, to pick up the boxes
As I sit here waiting, I think about my losses
Of family and friends long departed
From my life they have parted.
Today is a victory, for I am alive, watching the sun stream into the room
No edifices to build, no paths lay unexplored
Tomorrow will be the top of the hill, a life alive and never bored
How lucky I am today, at 3pm, sitting here in this empty tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can commiserate with you on this having recently gone through a similar thing, , , only some of the treasures I relinquised had been with me for over sixty years. It's amazing what one can collect in a life time and how freeing it can be to let go of it. May I humbly suggest you rethink the fourth line in the third stanza 'From my life they it seems they darted'... I think there are too many they's in there. Perhaps if it read 'have departed' it would fit better? ? ? ? Just a thought. Take care on your new journey, Shirley