Backsack

I carry the sack

on my bent and aching back

it is a long time since I have opened it

examined it

cleaned it up

old thoughts

dusty memories

outdated plans

most of them now irrelevant

and I dread the chore

who can keep track of it all

my tired body asks

let alone carry out

those youthful bold intentions

and there is no answer except

not I

perhaps it is time

to say

another goodbye

so many

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