Remnants of sweaters sit sleeveless in musty bags,

              half- painted dressers and desks,

             canvases with a first coat of my idea,

            Picture albums barren on the shelf.

              Plants that need new pots,

               walls that need new coats

             and racks of clothes I wore

            when I had that happy time.

              I am caught in the middle

              of what was and what will come

               and projects,

               like me,

               are numb.