Box Filling

I’ve lived here nearly 18 years, and kept
most papers I have filed or received.
I tolerate no clutter and I’ve swept,
but folders should have long ago been heaved.
I’ll spend an hour weekly. I’m adept
enough to fill one banker’s box, relieved
to move a mountain even though I dread it,
to where old office mates will duly shred it.

This entry was posted in Aging, Home, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment