The places in our lives are part of us,
And I spent days with family in these aisles.
So much we buy just seems ridiculous,
The stuff we brought along for all these miles –
Her cousin was the manager a bit;
We’d see him upfront, sometimes, tall and straight —
They let him go before the worst had hit,
So he, his wife, and kids moved out of state.
And I remember toys – my son was small –
Including some my grandkids play with now;
I know that life just happens, that things change,
But some days it still gets to me, somehow.
So many turns and orbits by our clocks,
The once-alive that’s now an empty box
Sadly more and more!
Perhaps it really does matter-what takes place within that “box”; consider a New England church or great Cathedral or, for that matter even an old homestead.
Great point.
I honestly thought that I was the only person who had thoughts like this.