My jackets and pants were placed in a box
Along with my shirts and all of my socks
Then they were delivered to a goodwill store
Never will I be remembered or thought of anymore.
They then took the pillow which upon I had slept
Upon which I had dreamt and where I had wept
It was then placed inside a garbage can
I guess they want to forget this one man.
My letters my bills and the paper I did require
They burnt them all in one giant fire
As though they don’t want to remember me
Erasing me from their thoughts and memory.
Upon the mantel in a picture frame was my face
Then that picture and others were placed in a suitcase
That suitcase was then shoved underneath a bed
I must now be forgotten, as now I am dead.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem Randy well composed thank