Set in a line like soldiers firing,
The books I love but never read wait
For their departure, glaring down at
Me from the shelves where dust will soon be
Unveiled, leaving silent shadows for
Destruction by the softest weapon.
I don’t have time to write my own poem about the moving. I’m too busy and too tired and, sometimes, too full of emotion when I try to see anything but swimming squiggles on a screen.
Instead I found this one which does the job perfectly on the topic of the unread books and other things that fill a house and must be dealt with (or just put into a bigger box to be not dealt with later in the next place). It was even better when I discovered that Len is a woman from Australia who writes lots of wonderful stuff.
Anyhow, it’s clear I’m just stalling. I need to go and see if I can fit all our stuff for today AND the guinea pigs into the car. Perhaps next time (if there is one) I’ll use the professionals, such as Illinois Movers, to help me.