On the Back Burner
On the stove,
mom and dad's
coffeepot; not used,
but always there.
On the windowsill
a clear blue vase
empty, unflowered
always there.
On the TV
a brown music box
from a friend of thirty years
rarely played.
Things are just things
unless touched by
someone dear.
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This is exquisite, Jack. First, the photograph evoked memories; then, the poem validated the reason why some of us do not part with "things" that aren't really "things" at all. Thanks for sharing your work with me!
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