The Car Seat, a poem.

The Car Seat

I saw
the car seat,
an item
foreign to me
growing up
as a member
of the Baby Boomer Generation.

I saw it,
a thin layer of dust,
on its surface,
it looking
as if
it had seen better days.

It had.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit,
it was worn,
used,
maybe loved,
and ready to face its demise.

It is no longer needed.

It is on the curb,
maybe someone will pick it up
and give it new life.

Maybe some small child
will spend time
in its plastic arms
and be protected.

It is symbolic
of growing up,
of time going by,
of the children no longer present
in my house
and in my yard.

No longer the
omnipresence
of little ones
and their smiles
and laughter
grace my home
and yard.

My garage
is also a receptacle
of many children’s toys,
toys that are unused,
Pandemically put aside,
and victim of growing older
and other things.

I look inside
and ponder
the situation
and wonder
what I need to do.

Do I save them for possible future use?

Do I donate them?

I need to think
because as of
right now,
they are sitting,
gathering dust,
collecting cancerous rust,
and could and should,
perhaps,
be put to better use.

For now,
my sadness
at seeing them
keeps me from
allowing them
to depart my property.

Another day
I will look
at them again
and maybe,
just maybe,
the sidewalk may gain,
little by little,
some new acquisitions,
and maybe
some cute children
will have
new car seats
and toys,
because
life
goes on.

About Richard Koerner

Almost seventy something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
This entry was posted in Confinement, Covid-19, Life in general, Thoughts and philosophy. Bookmark the permalink.

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