Ponderings on My Carpet
I settle back with a dull thump
Onto the carpet that should’ve been swept last week.
I had better things to do.
When I am gone this is how I will be remembered, I think:
The little bits of everything strewn across the floor.
Only a bit of dirt or a ragged thread left for someone else to stumble over,
But to some sentimental soul, it could mean that time we went to the creek
And laughed all night, the only souvenir the mud on our shoes.
Or the day I noticed my favorite jeans were frayed at the cuffs
And left them that way, only to have that ragged thread fall,
Marking something, some small moment of my life
Pressed into the carpet for all to see.
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