Storage (Poetry)

There’s something aching to be found
in the bulging cupboard’s glory hole
something so nearly completely forgotten about
imagined long-discarded, it still sits
as though waiting in ambush
for the actual day of turning out.

It might well be useless now — broken and old
yet when it’s brought into the light
the finder’s shocked to see it there —
proof in all its history and dust
just like the ghost of Christmas past
it suddenly unbalances the heart.

Then — which pile to put it in —
one to keep and one to go —
indecision tugs each way until
weakness ultimately wins.
Fumbled over and returned so
trophy-precious to forgetful dark.
Let more years pass — suck free
                                pain’s deeply-buried barbs
only then (maybe)
love grown stronger can make that choice
                                unflinchingly.