Severance

In the garage I stood, with a saw in my hand,

a neighbor’s old furniture, where memories stand.

I was ready to cut through the clutter and weight,

a line that would sever, a moment of fate.

The wood splintered softly, like silence in air,

reminding me well of the burden we bear.

I watched as it fell, in pieces and dust,

and learned that to part from the past is a must.