the awakening

I sort through
some old boxes stuffed
way back in the closet.
dusty,
unmarked. for years
they've gone untouched.
I open one
and start digging through
the memories.
touching the touchstones
of those years.
some sweet,
some bitter,
some unknown, forgotten
souls
that have come and gone.
how easily I dispose
of sentimental things,
once I have the epiphany,
the cruel awakening
that so much of life
is never what it seems.