Criticize me you realtors,
"Clean the clutter,
You're showing your place
To young couples."


Dated rooms you say
Like your grandma's
And there's dust, see there!
Say the young couples.


I'll not drop my pearls before
These unlearned prospects,
In quiet will I hear sweet
Inexperience of last year's children.


My secrets are there before you
Its walls my life display,
Turn your nose, think what you must
I won't be long away.


There up above hangs
A funny green and yellow collage,
The DNA of a teenage boy
Artist in the making.


Long years ago a music teacher
Cross-stitched morning glories
For a blue remodeled kitchen,
Her time for me forsaking.


A teddy bear replica in
An old sewing chair,
A best friend's gift,
And love from a moving neighbor.


A kaleidoscope, pink ceramic flower,
A tiny creche brought from the alley,
Coated with grease, presented to
Mom by tiny grimy hands.


Ruffles and rockers and
Rock maple tables, a crocheted round
The handprints of a parent
Who loved me well.


I take a tour to search my
Best treasure left behind, and,
Find none but the heart-shaped spirits
Of those who dwell with me here.