vinyl records

the large

carboard box in the basement

holds

all the vinyl records

i've accumulated

throughout

the years, before tapes

came about,

then cd's, then Spotify

and the rest

of it.

the records are old.

over a hundred at least.

warped

now

from neglect

and age, a ceiling leak.

and yet.

i can't bare to haul them

to the curb.

i know where every scratch is,

where the needle

skips,

i know which song comes next,

despite not playing

them for decades.

i know the words

on the cover praising a new

band

of the British Invasion.

Motown too.

the faces, forever young.

there's so little

in life that one can

be sure of, perhaps that's why i

can't let go of them.