Cold concrete floor and deafening silence
locks on every door displaying numbers
no names or personalities, no music or kid’s steps
just the sound of all seasons rushing to escape
sneaking through the cracks are our collective tales.

Old photo albums, and dresses with there tags
unopened Christmas presents, and the crystal wine glass
love letters from the seventies and teddy bears from the past
Oh! grandma recipes books and old biker pants.

Ballet dancer shoes and the exercise sound tracks
broken plastic chairs and plastic covered sofas
empty perfume bottles and the broken music box
the left over gift wraps and of course dirty dolls.

The babies’ first shoes and grandpas' eye wears
old crumbled maps and mangled license plates
The high-school diplomas and dried gummy bears
college essay papers and expired credit cards.

The unfinished craft projects and dried paint brushes
dust dressed magazines and the old version software
mismatched socks with holes and smaller blouse with stains
the forgotten changes in the pockets and washed up dollar bills.

Wondering through the coldness of Public-Self-Storage
are our defiant tails 'occupying' unnecessary space.

© Emu Getachew, October 30th,2009

Emu Getachew

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/public-self-storage-space/