Offer From a Facebook Page

 

Offer: 

Scraps of fabric, lace, embellishments and ribbon. Most less than 6inches long. Good for scrapbooks and junk journaling.

 

Accumulated over years, maybe generations.

Some worn-out, some never finished,

Some the leftovers of other projects, carefully hoarded,

From a time when pennies were dear.

 

Now,

Pennies are a thing of the past,

There's no room in the house for things that carry only ghosts of second-hand memories,

And no time to make new ones from the scraps of a forgotten heritage.

 

I can't put a price on this,

So I give it freely,

Asking only that you gaze upon it fondly for a few minutes,

Your head full of grand plans,

Before pressing it between scrapbook pages,

Or putting it away for a project that will not come to fruition,

Eventually passing it on to another kind stranger

And their own grand plans.

 

 

 

Apologies to the original poster if this offends.  When I saw the picture, it reminded me so much of the fabric, crochet, and crafting scraps that my late wife saved, and we stored together through 40 years.  Right down to the ziploc bag.  I recently gave away most of those second-hand memories, too.  I'm sad to have done it, yet glad to have spared my children the task.

As You Wish

 I watched it in the theater,
On the day of release,
With my wife,
Who, when we met in college,
Introduced the book to all
With such enthusiasm,
And so many superlatives,
That no one believed
That such a tale as she described
Could be any good at all.

Every year since our wedding,
We read it together.
Every year since it hit the screen,
We watched it together.
And for every child, and grandchild,
When they turned ten years old,
We read to them the "good parts."

I lost her two years ago,
My own bride.
Now, I give the tome away to strangers,
Every year,
And recorded it, in my voice,

For future generations.

Ode to Sir Pterry

You gave us a world,
but we...
we are never satisfied.
Always wanting more,
and so sad for ourselves that we cannot have it.

We wave farewell,
clutching your words,
your gifts,
to our breast.
Our last Hogswatch.

Did you feel the joy you gave to each of us?
It should be a palpable thing,
following you beyond the world,
like sapient pearwood luggage. 

Admonition

When you have so much

that you couldn't possibly spend it all,

not even if you lived many lives,

there is so much more that could be done

before you start sending luxury cars into space.

So much more value to be wrung

from the cost of the politicians you can buy

than your next tax cut.