Cola bottles
Picture frames
Unread books
Tangled earbuds
Hot wheel cars
Bracelets, watches, rings
Glass animals
Good luck rocks
Knick knacks
And more knick knacks
Clutter
Is what they call it
Seashells
Candles
Figurines
Stacks of journals
A half dozen water bottles
Scattered dice
Clutter
Junk
Not knick knacks
Not collectibles
Clutter
That's what they see
Not memorabilia that takes me back
From friends
From family
From her and him
What's the point
Of minimalist rooms
With a single succulent
Placed perfectly so
And not a handful of roses and cacti
Scattered around the room
Why keep
A neat stack of books
All pleasing to the eye
Instead of piling up
All your favorites
The ones you'll read again and again
The ones that transport you
To fantasy worlds
Why throw away
Every little thing
Or keep it stored
Where it's unseen
And eventually forgotten
I love my knick knacks
That cover my shelves
My dresser
My desk
They make my room unique
It makes it more 'me'
So shut up about
It being clutter
And a general eye sore
Why do you even care
You barged in here
Without my permission anyways
Just to knit pick
And put me down
They're my knick knacks
The stuff that takes me back
The stuff from her
The stuff from him
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
