a piece of wood holding up a table
the sand in between my toes
an ornament on a Christmas tree
a leaf flying to the earth
poster board as a drippy paint brush makes the first stroke
junk sold at a yard sale
an abandoned car in a lot
colors in a rainbow translated into art
Father’s death and
fights with my siblings
Lookin’ at a picture where he still had eight years
And a photo of you when you considered me friend
The significance, swollen like a baseball, stuck in my throat
it all matters to me yet I’m the only one.
Left feeling like I barely matter to anyone.