As I pack up my belongings to make way for the construction workers, I reflect on all the other times I’ve moved. At the midway point of getting things boxed and stowed, I believe this is a feeling to which anyone who has ever moved can relate.

Stack of packing boxes

Filling, supply growing smaller

Stuff to pack, growing taller.

My knees are sore,

My back is bent

My energy 

Done gone and went.

Stuff to pack,

Growing taller.

Stack of packing boxes,

Growing smaller.

Storage space almost gone

Will there be enough

To hold it all?

This stack of stuff

Is just TOO tall!

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Comments (4)
  • Ruby Hawk on Sep 1, 2011

    Daisy, I feel for you. I can’t imagine packing so much stuff, although I have done it several times in the past. I know you are worn to a frazzle. I hope you get to rest soon.

  • V rank on Sep 1, 2011

    sounds like a tough job…

  • Christine Ramsay on Sep 2, 2011

    I love the poem, Daisy but I feel for you too. What an upheaval. I hope you get back into the house soon.

  • PR Mace on Sep 3, 2011

    Love the poem but what a job.

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