Accounting for the End – My Weekly Poem 8/30/2021

When accounting for one’s life
comes to its foregone end,
there remains a set of things
that must have a place to send.

As I prepare for death,
it changes what I’m seeing;
listing all our things,
hoping some will still have meaning.

I hope there are treasures
people keep to remember me
and help me stick around
through living memory.

My favorite coffee cup
I sip from each pre-dawn
will not be worth a nickle
when sold out on the lawn.

Of course we’ll have a car
a walking man might want
but slowing down to find him now
will look like I’m out to taunt.

Then comes all the junk
I can’t bear to part with now,
filling up our house
that must move on somehow.

I make list for those I know
of things I think they’ll need,
does that put off my time to go
or does it merely plant the seed?

When the rest is added up
and reduced to currency,
it can return back to the flow
of people trying to break free.

My existence will finally fade,
all thoughts and things washed away;
the meaning also gone
so I must make something of today.

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This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Stuff