In my younger days,
downsizing
wasn’t hard to do,
I wouldn’t boast
from coast to coast,
And each time when we’re through,
I’d given away the pots and pans,
books and records, too,
toys and games, knick-knacks, junk,
and clothes that looked brand new.
what we couldn’t give away,
or donate to Goodwill,
we packed to take along with us,
and have most of those things, still.
I downsized many times in life,
until one day I found
Myself back in Arleta, CAL
on old familiar ground;
we lived there nineteen years, you know,
and collected castoffs left and right,
I never thought about it much,
we must have looked a sight,
Until the time to move was thrust
upon us one fine day;
Bob balked and wouldn’t pack a thing
( He hoped that he could stay )
and now I’m settled, once again,
this time–I know the score
and don’t plan to downsize again
(quote the raven never more!)
wooden spoons and cookie jars,
Steve’s baseball cards galore
two-hundred-fifty recipe boxes–
who could ask for more?
and when I’m dead and gone, perhaps,
the kids will sell my stuff
or give it all to someone else
Until they’ve had enough–
and one day HE will say to HER
“we’ve got to downsize, dear”
and she will say to HIM “OK–
Soon, but not this year….”
Sandra Lee Smith
