A man who savored every slide of life,
and valued his possessions neatly kept,
was married to an all-disposing wife
who gratified herself, the while he slept,
by fantasizing what she’d throw away
if she had rein to sweep the closets clean
and clear the shelves. It seemed like every day
they made the garbage can a battle scene.
They stayed together happy sixty years
and then his haleness faltered, and he died.
Fast-widowed stoic she released some tears
(who never laughed out loud, and seldom cried).
Abruptly then she ventured, task-restored,
to jettison the trappings of his hoard.