it was a few months ago.
the packing.
and still.
the boxes lie. in place. untouched. forgotten. and still
always remembered.
i suppose
when things
are always leaving.
or
when
you are always going.
the ones that stay
become the needles
in the stacks of hay.
and it just doesn’t make sense to look anymore.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Anthony Tran
hudson biko 
Super post!! Loved your lines –
“the ones that stay
become the needles
in the stacks of hay.
and it just doesn’t make sense to look anymore.” Bravo!!!
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Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it!
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Too many boxes, hold too many emotions, five too many moves, in six too many years she’s been gone.
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Way too many. What a lovely poetry to your comment Ivor.
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😊 Thanks 🙏
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