My old trunk is filled with
Baby shoes,
   But no one knows to whom they belong,
Faded pictures,
Christmas ornaments,
Spectacles,
Watches that no longer work
Tarnished silver,
A tennis racket,
My mother's false teeth,
Embroidered napkins, I was saving for company,
And memories.

I clothe this trunk
   With vestments of spider webs
And warm it with white sheets,
   As one would cover furniture
      of one departed.
And eventually,
   The trunk is once again
      Forgotten.

Life is a carnival,
   Filled with amusement rides and comfort food.
      But, no matter how much fun I have today,
         There will only be an empty parking lot tomorrow.

That trunk is my lifeline to remember
   There was a carnival.