R.P. Infantino | Poetry

R.P. Infantino is a published writer of essays, poetry, short stories, novellas, songs, and more.

Yard Sale
by R.P. Infantino

A cardboard box of tools and things,
Old books inside a trunk,
Used shirts and pants and leather boots,
Discarded, worn-out junk.

Some silverware, one yellow bike,
A toaster and some shoes,
Glasses filled with nothing much,
Memories filled with blues.

A buyer picks a silver ring
And asks how much it cost.
The woman sighs, “Just give me ten,”
Her eyes are sad and lost.

“Ten bucks for this? A wedding ring?
You’re giving it away.
It must not mean too much to you,
Was it from your wedding day?”

The former bride lets go a sigh,
Her hand placed ‘cross her mouth.
Her eyes fill up with salty tears,
Her sadness in no doubt.

She turns and leaves the buyer there,
The ring still in her hand.
She runs inside the empty house,
No one can understand

The memory that’s taken flight,
Like wings of a white dove.
To lose possessions can’t compare
To losing one’s true love.