eras, if you will.
the closets hold most of
them in boxes.
attics too.
cellars full of bins.
it's an archaeology dig
on a weekend.
sifting through the dust
the cobwebs.
sediment and silt.
sentiment and guilt.
some boxes marked by
years. the seventies,
the eighties.
how swift this ride is.
were we really that happy
back then?
it seems so by the smiles,
the grins. the faces of lovers
now gone. dearly
departed friends.
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