It would have been nice to find out the ultimate price of things

Before I bought. Guess I assumed they would be free to me,

Or of very little cost. I lost.

My closets, the drawers of my chest, and my vanity

All attest to a state of insanity.

Then along came plastics which made storing things so easy -

Winter/summer clothes, the I-will-reads, and the you-forgot-me's in the freezer.

Tough sheds, Hardie planks guaranteed to outlast the owner

Provide enough room to heirlooms to be passed on to kids

Who can neither define heir nor loom

And probably don't remember the donor.

Stashed away all your money for future expenses you would incur.

Tithes paid. Fortune secure. Bright light? Tunnel?

Is this the right place? Are you sure?

Can't you see my face? Tell me. Is this my fate at the end?

Peter, Dear Saint, Open that gate. Welcome me in.

"I'd welcome you, but Rosalie, you can't come in with all that stuff. There's no room

For jewelry, clothes, antiques, collectibles, houses,

Cattle, horses, 401K's, stocks, bonds and IRAs.

And you've gained so much weight - almost a ton.

It's just too much! Besides, you're late.

You Go Girl! There's no way in hell

You're coming through this gate!"

Are they these three-story “townhouses” made of wood

And painted strange colors varied as autumn leaves

Huddled closer than those in a forest ever could?

Where are the pleasant scents of flowers and grass freshly mown

That once floated through windows on breezes softly blown

To tantalize this curious nose?

The window is open, but where are the sounds of neighbors

Chatting at the end of a busy day,

Or children’s laughter as they go about their play?

Now that it’s time to close the window

On a world that’s become so alien to me,

It should come as no surprise.

With breezes no longer blowing

And sunrise’s gleam no longer showing,

I will softly exhale and simply close my eyes.

©2009 Rosalie M. Taylor