Nails and Rust

Nails and Rust

The windows in the shops on the streets of where she once lived, harbored pieces of her life she had given away for free; the shopkeepers knew not their value, for there they sold for mere pennies

An old silver picture frame that once held the images of the ones she loved, now lying in a box with nails and rust

An antique desk handed down from hands of generations past, and from one of who would never again trace words on paper; now, pushed against a wall covered in trinkets, the deep hues of grain had given up their beauty long ago from lack of care

Her bed once covered in fine linens and lace, sat with legs broken and scarred, abandoned to hold boxes of books and throw-a-ways; it had once been a sanctuary for her to dream

 Smaller, and precious pieces strewn throughout the dust covered shelves and floors, lay helplessly waiting for her return, to rescue them from their misery

She felt her heart breaking over again as she pushed her chaffed hands into the pockets of the overly worn coat she now clung to, and was all she had left; her clothes faded and paper thin, offered little warmth from the cold air that chilled her bones, shoes that encased her feet were battered from the constant roaming from window to window; street to street to revisit the memories of the life she had given away; until they too were gone

 It was sad she knew, of what her life had become, for there had been a time when she had it all, and given all to those of whom she had loved

 She expected nothing in return, the pain in her heart reminded her, nothing was offered, and had been her reward

  Time takes all and leaves little, except perhaps for the trinkets that are left behind, or carelessly thrown into the dust covered boxes filled with nails and rust