Old withered tree
Gnarled and knotted
Towering to unreachable height.
Lifeless branches climbing—
Escaping their host’s unhappy fate.
Hangers clinging precariously to each branch;
Clutching their precious cargo.
Images of places, of persons, of ideas
Scraps of cloth, of paper, of photographs
Attaching themselves like parasites to any available branch.
Below them, inching ever closer
With grasping, greedy hands
Lies a pool of quicksand, without depth
Swirling in a rapid and ceaseless vortex.
One by one, each item becomes absorbed by the overbearing sludge.
Every so often, one or two will resurface
Popping up for a moment, before it is jerked back down
To the unfathomable, murky world of Lost and Irretrievable.