I have been carrying this old suitcase for my entire life
It is now a scarred and battered container of memories and reality
Some might call it baggage, but it contains all that I am
And each time I open it, I find the bits and pieces of experience that have made me
I often wish that I could forget much of the contents
But I find those old photos which make me smile and remember
Scattered amongst the pangs and angst of what was
And I sometimes think of culling them
Keeping only the warm happiness and love which has sustained me in life
But they are stuck together by the tears and sorrow of my past
I am unable to separate them without destroying all
And yet, how can I deny the scars and scuffs which adorn the worn patina of age
The latches which once locked my secrets and dreams so securely within
Now seem to flip open at inopportune moments
Scattering random pieces onto the floor of my consciousness
I try to put them all back, but I know I have missed a few
Left behind along the trail that I have travelled
Those lost memories have made my suitcase lighter as I travel now
But its cuts and marks and worn surface are a testament to my life
I have lived, and I have loved living
But there is still one more flight to take, and I think I will check my bag this time.
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I am an observational poet, fascinated with the wonders of life. I have worked many years with my hands and now hope the work of my mind pleases.