We're not a married couple,
But we've duct taped these boxes
To put away firmly
In the back of our minds.

We don't have the heart
To throw out this stuff,
The miscellaneous mischief,
Missing all kinds.

The winds have been blowing,
Flailing the trees.
They were once so tense,
But now they unwind.

The redwoods, sequoias,
Reaching so high,
Wanting and grasping,
Just how I pine.

And like a broken valentine,
It's a symbol, a sign
Of how some things never shine
Once I've made it all mine.

I've lost the touch
Of Midas, my king.
I loosen my clutch,
Lose everything.