Do you see me when you look at those candlesticks

Tarnished and bent, standing on the table

What do they mean to you now?

And the old piano

With the yellowed keys that knew me well

And sang to me when I was sad

The paintings on the walls

They mean nothing to you

A garage sale, ten dollars, less

Another addition to this mess

But to me they were the world

When he painted them

With his solid young brush

And his careful hand

The dying plant in the corner

That lived with me

The flowers opened in the spring

But now they never will again

The checkered soup-stained tablecloth

That served my children, then their children

Making way for flowered pomp and gleaming plastic.

Death came softly, yes

Tired and routine

Like you

It swept me away

Like him

Swept me to when we were small and dainty

And when my fingers could play

The gleaming white keys

Swept me away from the yellowing curtains,

And the lonely window

Looking upon an oblivious street

Now it's just a pile of waste

Old and meaningless

Like my name

Meaning that died with me

That will die with you

When you join me, one day

And this pile of waste

Will be all you'll ever miss