(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Closer To The Back Door

One step closer to the back door.
Collected trash put into a garbage bag.
One step closer to the back door.
Packed racks stacked too high.
Packed racks stacked too much.
Packed racks stacked too long prolonged.
And there's a need for them to be gone.
One step closer to the back door.
Sentiments and evidence to now distance.
One step closer to the back door.
Closer to the back door to turn,
The knob and open.

One step closer to the back door.
A past to forget not wanted anymore.
One step closer to the back door.
The 'whys' the 'whens' not to start again.
Packed racks stacked too high.
Packed racks stacked too much.
Packed racks stacked too long prolonged,
And there's a need for them to be gone.
One step closer to the back door.
And praying yet again not to turn away,
Like before.
To shut the door and lock.

One step closer to the back door.
But I have this 'thing' about remembered pain.
That sits.
Needing it to keep reminisced.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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