More poems about moving

While my moving days are still clear in my mind, here’s a few more poems I’ve written about that awful chore. So many decisions, so many memories, so much pain involved.

Bob, your favorite
Yellow leather chair
Is going out of our lives.
It doesn’t fit
In my new home
So I’m giving
It to Joe. I know
He’ll take good care
Of it and remember you
Whenever he sits in it.
And I won’t ever forget
How you looked
Snuggled up in it
Dozing and relaxing
There even when
You were the most sick.
I don’t need
The physical chair
Or the physical you
To have all
The best memories
Of our undying love.


This is the penultimate
Moving day.
The piles of boxes
Filled the whole garage
And now are
Packed tight in two trucks.
Soon the furniture
Will go in.
By close of business
The trucks will be packed
And ready
For delivery tomorrow.
And with every step
The movers make
I remember the story
Of the things they carry.


We lived with an armoire
In our bedroom
For over twenty years.
It held our clothes
And a television set
We hardly watched.
It was hard moving it in
It had to be taken apart
And then put back together
After it was placed
Against the far wall
Next to the bathroom.
Well, we needed
To move it out
So it can come with me
To my new home
In Playa Vista.
Today a miracle man
A cabinet maker,
Who complimented
Its stylish French
Mahogany workmanship,
Took it apart
Piece by piece
So it can get
Out the door.
I just hope they’ll know how
To put it together again.

My body is washed,
My legs shaved,
And my hair shampooed
And coifed.
But I have no plans
To do anything
Or see anyone. My fault
For sure. I could have
Called one of the women
I’ve met or even a friend
From the life I just left.
Instead, I’m going
To watch television,
Eat leftovers and
Go to bed early.
One good thing.
I’m sleeping more
And more every night.

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