New place
Boxes and bags
Bags and boxes
Shrinking space
I find the familiar
I find the forgotten
Each item opening
The gate to Memory Lane
Some steps are precious
But it’s not always a sunny street
There are potholes and puddles,
Also shadows and alleys
I open a door,
See a covered hole in the floor
Is there treasure there?
Or a jumbled, shattered mess?
I step back and breathe,
Lock the gate but keep the key
Too many boxes at once
Take a break for a week
I’ve had time to sort
And lace up my boots
I open a bag
And step forward again
