by Kathi Thornhill ©

Used by Permission

It's not billed as a memory auction,

But in truth, what else could it be?

A lifetime of treasures and keepsakes

Bid on by you and by me.

Presents by children presented

With love and the hope of surprise

May now be bid on by strangers

Who never saw love in her eyes.

How do you auction off memories?

Do the memories then fade away?

A lifetime of being a mother

Flies away with the dust of the day?

I'm so glad that she won't be attending

To witness the close of an age,

To see her life's worth now written

On the lines of the auctioneer's page.

The place where she's going's uncertain.

She may keep just very few things.

Perhaps a few pictures, mementos,

And of course her dear mother's ring.

The rest, yes it must be disposed of

As if to cover all trace.

Thank goodness my memories can't be

Put out in so public a place.

At least not in the near future,

But who knows what the future will bring?

One day I will stand with Mom hand in hand

With my afghan, my angel, and ring.

The people will come never knowing

That this "collection of stuff"

Was a lifetime by me greatly treasured,

And the highest bid can't be enough.

To replace many years of her living,

To fill up a now empty space,

For her life was a song well worth singing.

She held such a high, special place.

A place in my heart now that echoes

With laughter, her sorrow now hides.

The auctioneer starts up the bidding.

I bid with the tears I have cried.