Poem: Mishmash



More stuff than could ever need

Constantly add, never cede.

Some which is sentimental,

Others quite accidental.

Amassing more though the years

Until the end of life nears.


When passing, leave to others

To sort and remove clusters

Of collections good and bad.

Sorting through the things you had.

Every family may have one

Heir to keep lodgment begun.


Cycle started years ago.

Once collections start to grow,

Stash in attic, these treasures,

Too valuable for measures.

When kin pass, it starts anew.

How to slow this hoarder’s view.


Whittling down the collection

Making life choice correction

Sometimes forced, because of move.

Or else wants to self improve.

Treasures tend to look like trash

When hidden within mishmash.

–                    – June Nash

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