I sit surrounded by ghosts from the past

old chests of drawers, desks and shelves,

age has rendered them useless

yet they take up space in my house.

Occasional tables with legs too spindly

to bear any weight, dotted around,

paintings of scenes I do not recognise,

portraits of people I do not know,

stacked behind doors and cupboards

because there is no more wall.

Past lives lived and forgotten,

yet they take up so much of my life

they are not of my past, my history,

but they are here to stay

as another cannot let go

of these meaningless things,

they have passed for years

an unbroken chain through a family

and ended up with me here.

I feel these ghosts looking at me

disparagingly, disapprovingly,

for I do not share their values,

their lifestyle, their pasts

I am from a different time and place

I have no need of them or their things.

I wish to live in the present

uncluttered, unhindered, free,

yet someone important to me

clings like an anemone to a rock

to the ghosts of his past.

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