I’m  Letting go of this and I’m letting go of that,

I won’t hold on to anything, not even your old hat,

No, not the roller skates that I wore on Friday nights,

When I was a teenager, a geeky one at that!

I won’t hold on to souvenirs of places where I’ve been,

I won’t hold on to contest entries that I didn’t win,

I’m letting go of clippings–stacks and stacks of  them at that,

I’m letting go of scarves and gloves and my grandson’s lucky bat,

I’m finished with the books I’ve read, the ones I’d read again

If I had the time–but then–I really can’t say when–

I’m tossing out the letters and the cards I sent to you,

So meaningless when you’re not here to read them  too;

I’ve donated all your shoes and the clothing and your ties,

With a short notation–I’m not good with long goodbyes,

It’s time to do some cleaning–I don’t want to be a hoarder,

and get rid of all the trinkets that we found across the border;

I’m tossing out the record albums we collected long ago–

of all the Fifties artists only you and I would ever know,

There’s all your pipes and lighters–what should I do with those?

and all the odds and ends you kept, so many, heaven knows–

I’ve kept your caps and jackets and the boots you loved so much,

I can’t let go of everything–some times I need to touch

the shirt, the hat, the jacket or those boots you like to wear,

when I rub my hands against them, I can almost feel you here;

but I’ve let go of many things, yet your spirit still remains,

I can’t let go of you, my dear,  I would surely go insane.


Sandra Lee Smith 2011, for Robert




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