His dresser
In the basement, in the corner
collecting dust, holding memories.
Now stacked high with oddities,
but still noticed, still important.
His dresser an island, drawers unused,
nothing enters, nothing leaves.
His stuff still inhabits.
Top drawer; socks, underwear,
my tears, my smiles.
Middle drawer; t-shirts, shorts,
my tears, my smiles.
Bottom drawer; stuff, lots of stuff,
precious stuff, more tears and smiles.
I see him rummaging, talking, smiling,
being my son, my wonderful son.
Now I rummage,
holding socks, shirts, stuff,
touching them to my skin,
feeling him, wanting him back.
No more laundry to do,
no more holes to mend,
no more beautiful son to hug,
but wonderful memories to know.
It's good we kept his dresser, his stuff.
That's where we know him, sense, feel him.
Long ago he closed his dresser and went to Heaven.
He doesn't need his dresser there.
We need his dresser here.
In the basement, in the corner
collecting dust, holding memories.
Now stacked high with oddities,
but still noticed, still important.
His dresser an island, drawers unused,
nothing enters, nothing leaves.
His stuff still inhabits.
Top drawer; socks, underwear,
my tears, my smiles.
Middle drawer; t-shirts, shorts,
my tears, my smiles.
Bottom drawer; stuff, lots of stuff,
precious stuff, more tears and smiles.
I see him rummaging, talking, smiling,
being my son, my wonderful son.
Now I rummage,
holding socks, shirts, stuff,
touching them to my skin,
feeling him, wanting him back.
No more laundry to do,
no more holes to mend,
no more beautiful son to hug,
but wonderful memories to know.
It's good we kept his dresser, his stuff.
That's where we know him, sense, feel him.
Long ago he closed his dresser and went to Heaven.
He doesn't need his dresser there.
We need his dresser here.