Pinned Up

Another card, new doctor's date,

and nowhere left, it feels too late.

The corkboard groans, a layered mess,

of old receipts and mild distress.

A yellowed note, a concert ticket torn,

a photo edge, so softly worn.

Pushpins glint, like tiny eyes,

holding down a thousand tries

at order. Faded green, a blue,

layered over, things I once knew.

I try to slide it in, a tight fit,

between the old, where memories sit.

It holds the past, a silent wall.

So much to remember, standing tall.